


Trust

by KaCole



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Adventure, Danger, F/M, Honesty, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Slow Burn, Spuhura, Spyota, falling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-09-26 18:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9914435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaCole/pseuds/KaCole
Summary: When Spock and Uhura's mission goes dangerously wrong, they're left to fend for themselves on a hostile plant.Extract:Spock's chest was tight, his throat raw, yet he had not been injured there. Had he just dropped Uhura to her death? Did her broken body lay at the bottom of the cliff, because he miscalculated? Because he hadn’t run to the shuttle fast enough? Something terrible simmered and bubbled in his chest. Fear, guilt, rage. A roar grew in his throat and exploded through the shuttle.





	1. Falling

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first venture into writing Star Trek. I've found my grove and I'm enjoying writing this story!

Lieutenant Nyota Uhura pressed her back hard against a gnarly tree in the darkness. By her side, Spock held rock-still, with his head tilted to the left, listening for pursuers crashing through the dense forest. The forest floor crackled underfoot with dead twigs and branches. Uhura realised they would hear Dartan’s men coming, but in turn she and Spock would find it impossible to move without giving their position away.

“You just had to do it, didn’t you?” Uhura hissed at Spock. “Two weeks work thrown away. All the trust we’d built up here—”

“Dartan cannot be trusted.”

“I had it all under control until you steamed in.” Uhura brushed a layer of dirt away from her leg, flinching as she touched a deep graze on her knee. She’d fallen during their head-long dash through the gloomy forest, with branches lashing her from all sides. Her leg throbbed and her breaths still came hard and fast.

“You were not in possession of all the facts—”

“I can’t believe you hit him!”

Spock spoke calmly, so calmly Uhura wanted to knock the breath out of him.

He said, “Dartan’s physiology would have rendered a nerve pinch ineffectual, and given him time to cause you damage.”

“Cause me _damage_?” she exclaimed. It was his way of speaking. It didn’t mean he thought she was some inanimate object. At least she didn’t think so. They had bigger problems than his irritating choice of words, though. Dartan’s men couldn’t be far away now. It had been twilight when they fled the village, and it was pitch black now. How would they ever find the shuttle?

She sighed and shook her head. “You’ve put this project back months—”

“As I said, you were not in possession of all the facts—”

“To hell with the facts,” she snapped. “We need to go. Is it clear?” She pointed at her knee, even though in the gloom he wouldn’t see the trickle of blood running down her leg. “I need to go tend my _damage_.”

Spock caught her arm. “Noyota, he had his hands on you.”

She blinked several times. He was so close she could almost feel his eyes boring into her. Her breath caught in her chest. “So, you—”

A crack boomed through the forest, followed by an orange flare illuminating the canopy. Seconds later, voices rang out. “This way!”

Spock grasped her hand. “We must run. The shuttle is approximately point four five kilometres away.”

Uhura didn’t ask how he knew. She was just grateful for his ability to navigate the darkness, and the comforting feel of his hand in hers. Perhaps he did have some feelings in that Vulcan heart of his after all. They set off again through the tangled undergrowth. They’d been forced to leave the shuttle beyond the reaches of the village because phase variance disrupted the systems. It had quickly become clear that it was all connected to the problem they’d come here to solve.

They bolted through the undergrowth. He seemed sure of his path, and Uhura wondered if he saw things more clearly in the dark that she did. She’d have to ask him sometime. But for now, she saved her energy for running.

She heard voices in the darkness. “Dartan wants them alive.” They were closer now. “Ha, he wants _her_ alive. Do what you like with the pointy-eared one.”

She felt his grip on her hand tighten. She shuddered. She wasn’t a fool, she had seen the predator in Dartan, and she had been afraid. There was a part of her that was glad when Spock sent Dartan sprawling to the floor. But another part of her was infuriated. Right now, the angry part seemed to be in charge.

It began to rain. Large droplets bounced on the fleshy leaves and splashed up into her face, soaking her uniform in seconds.

Another crack rang out from behind, closer this time.

They pelted through the trees until the forest ended without warning. To the left, across an open field was the shuttle’s outline. Ahead, there was a short span of muddy grass. After that, the world dropped away.  

Spock anchored up, still holding her hand, as they slipped and slid toward to the precipice.

She tipped backwards.

The sky was starless and the full moon half covered by black clouds. The rain beat down on them both.

Her weakened knee buckled and she staggered backwards. He stepped with her towards the looming cliff edge. She desperately clawed at his uniform, but it slipped through her fingers. She lurched another step backwards. Her mouth opened. Solid ground disappeared from under her feet, but she made no sound.

As she fell away, he threw himself forwards and down onto the soil.

Then she was swinging back and forwards in his grip. Panic gripped her heart. A surge of adrenaline pumped through her as she dangled over eternity.

Spock looked down into the infinite gloom beyond and then back into her eyes.

“Do not look down,” he said. His other hand scrabbled for purchase on the muddy cliff’s edge.

Sounds came from behind him: the thump of boots through the forest; the crack of guns in the night air.

She screamed now, short, breathy screams, and clawed at his arm with her free hand. “Spock, pull me up!” she demanded. Her heart thundered in her chest. She glanced down. Blackness stretched away forever.

“Look at me,” he said again, in that calm, even tone.

She looked up into his eyes. Even in the darkness they were mesmerising.

“I cannot pull you up,” he said.

“What are you talking about? Pull me up!” Her heart thundered. Every nerve in her body screamed. One slip and she would plunge to her death. Didn’t he realise? Didn’t he care?

He was as calm as she’d ever seen him. “I cannot pull you up. Dartan’s men will be here in seconds.”

“I’ll take my chances with Dartan’s men. Pull me up, now!” Her throat was raw, and every nerve in her body screamed.

He continued as if she had not spoken. “Even if we both make it off the cliff—which is unlikely given Dartan’s stated intentions—with your current top speed, and the distance to the shuttle, we will be exposed to their weapons for at least a minute. Logic dictates—”

A biting wind tore at Uhura’s soaked uniform, but his words chilled her more. She looked down again at the blackness below. He couldn’t possibly be suggesting . . .  

“No, no, no,” she began, and dug her nails into the cliff side, scrabbling with her free hand and both legs to get a purchase on the crumbling surface.

“Nyota,” he said. “Alone, I will make it back to the shuttle in approximately twenty seconds. Once there, I will beam you to safety.” His voice carried through the wind and the rain, and soothed her, somehow.

She looked down again and then back into his eyes. She understood what he was asking her to do, but it terrified her. “I can’t. I can’t let go. Please, pull me up, Spock.”

His voice took on a note of urgency. “What will happen if we are captured?”

The words stuck in her throat. She wasn’t a fool. Although she’d railed at Spock for striking the man, she’d been afraid of Dartan. He had the look of a predator about him. His breath on her face sickened her. “He’ll kill you,” she said, remembering his men’s laughter and shouting in the forest.

“The real question, is do you trust me?” Spock said.

She looked into his eyes. She saw something there she’d not seen before; some emotion he was struggling to understand and contain. They had so much they needed to work out between them. They needed time.

But she understood this: he was going to save her.

“I trust you, Spock,” she said. And she realised she _did_ trust him. She was still more terrified than she’d been in her life. But she trusted him in this.

“Then let go,” he said.

He was giving her control, making this her choice. Even if he didn’t fully understand the human need to be in control of one’s own life, he understood her enough to know this was the right thing to do.

She nodded. She closed her eyes. The rain splashed her face and the wind whipped her hair. Then she spread her fingers. She was falling. Falling away from Spock and falling into darkness.

#

Spock thrust himself upwards. He took a second to orient himself on the muddy cliff. The shuttle _Galileo_  lay directly ahead. Had they exited the forest a few meters to the left, they would have been safely there now. The image of Nyota falling away from him, disappearing into darkness, hung in his mind. The image clouded his senses. He blocked those distracting thoughts. Nothing mattered but running.

He sprinted for the shuttle. In his periphery vison he noted three figures burst through the trees adjacent to the _Galileo._ There had been insufficient time for his musculature and respiratory system to eliminate the high levels of lactic acid caused by prolonged exertion from his burning legs. He forced himself onwards. Nyota had twenty seconds, perhaps less, before she would smash into whatever lay in the darkness beyond the cliff. Rock, water, it would make no difference; she would be smashed beyond recognition.

Again, he forced the thought from his mind and focussed on running.

Dartan’s faceless men called to one another through the rain-soaked night. “Can you see him?” “Where’s the woman?” 

With a crack, a flare of orange lit the sky. Spock knew he would be visible. He was just twenty paces from _Galileo_. He dived sideways, anticipating a shot if he remained on his current course.

He was right: the earth where he would have been exploded.

Mud splattered his face. He kept running.

The raw pulse of blast rifle hit him square in the back. Pain ripped through him. His back muscles convulsed. Fire shuddered upwards through his spine, gripping his neck like a vice. Dartan’s men were not stupid. Another shooter must have taken aim in the light of the flare.

He ran on. Every step was agony. He fumbled for his communicator. “Computer, open shuttle doors.”

The doors mechanism clicked open, and slowly, slower than he’d ever thought possible, the door eased open. “Computer, initiate transporters. Lock onto—”

He flung himself inside the shuttle and slammed his palm at door closing mechanism. Another crackle of light blasted, this time past him into the shuttle. He threw himself to the floor.

“—lock onto Lieutenant Uhura’s life signs. Transport her to this location.” Spock gasped the words. He winced as a new pain surged through him, forcing him onto his side to take the pressure off his burned back. His ears rang from the blast in the confined space.

Where was she? He willed the glow of the transporter beams to appear. He began forcing himself to his feet, and half-crawled toward the instrument panel at the front of the shuttle. Every nerve ending from his neck to his tail-bone was aflame.

But he felt something else. His chest was tight, his throat raw, yet he had not been injured there. Did he just drop Uhura to her death? Did her broken body lay at the bottom of the cliff, because he had miscalculated? Because he hadn’t run fast enough? Something terrible simmered and bubbled in his chest. Fear, guilt, rage. A roar grew in his throat and exploded through the shuttle.

It merged with another sound. A scream.

The transporter’s hum was drowned out: by his agonised yell and Uhura’s long, drawn-out scream of terror.

She staggered, wild-eyed, and barely kept her feet. After a few seconds, she seemed to realise she was no longer falling, and she looked frantically around the shuttle.

“Spock!” She fell to her knees beside him. “Are you hurt?”

Before he could reply, a blast rocked the shuttle.

“Computer, raise shields!” she commanded. “Can you get up?”

He shook his head. His whole back was locked in spasm. To move was agony. “We must depart,” he whispered.

She touched his face gently, and then nodded.

Spock knew her to be a competent pilot, but the conditions were difficult. It was dark and raining, and the phase disturbances on this planet made the sensors unreliable at best. Another blast shook the small ship.

Uhura slid into the pilot’s seat. “Dartan had a ship. Do you think he will come after us?”

“Unknown.” Spock’s voice sounded strained to his own ears.

She glanced back at him with worry etched on her face. How ironic, he thought, for her to be concerned for him now, when he had almost been responsible for her death. And despite his protestations, he knew his actions back at the village had been illogical.

He felt the ship rise. They would be in orbit in minutes. Once clear of this planet’s interference they could contact the Enterprise. Captain Kirk could be back here in forty eight hours. The shuttle’s medical supplies would be adequate until then. Perhaps McCoy’s assessment would not even be needed. One could only hope, he thought wrily.

Uhura activated the forward viewer. Pitch dark surrounded them, broken only by orange flares as Dartan’s men took pot-shots at the shuttle.

Uhura was frowning. “Something’s wrong.”

Spock struggled to sit up.

“The planetary defence grid has activated. I thought it was out of action. That’s what we were negotiating over, parts for—”

“As I indicated, you were not in possession of all the facts. I believe Dartan has been replacing the Letrinum crystals with low-grade alternatives. That was why the system failed. But he has stock-piled the crystals.”

“Well the system isn’t inactive any more. How powerful is it?”

“Powerful enough to destroy this shuttle. And cause serious damage to a larger vessel.”

Uhura’s eyes widened as she watched a power-grid on the console rise and fall.

“What is our altitude?” he asked.

“Two thousand feet. Will it be enough?”

Spock shook his head, and pulled himself to his feet. The spasm was gone, but his back felt raw. Every movement caused shooting pain in his skin where his uniform stuck to his melted flesh.  

He sat beside Uhura, careful not to let his back make contact with the chair. “We must—” He stopped when he saw the readings. The defence grid was fully on-line.

Uhura reached for his hand.

Bright light exploded around them with a wall of deafening sound. Then they were spinning and plunging downwards, falling into darkness. 


	2. Catching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uhura must land the damaged shuttle.

Uhura found herself falling for the second time that day. This time, entombed in a shuddering metal coffin, no wind tore her still-damp uniform. The sickening lurch in her stomach and the rush of adrenalin coursing through her was the same, though.  But this time she wasn’t plummeting helplessly and waiting for rescue. This time she could do something about it.

She’d activated her seat restraints before the blast hit the shuttle. Spock had not. In the dark, she couldn’t even see him, but she sensed him on the floor behind her. She forced her attention to the instrument panel. Warning lights flashed urgently, telling her the navigation systems were fried.

“Manual override!” she yelled at the computer, above the roar of the shaking ship.

The lights of M’basi lay directly ahead, twinkling in the darkness. With shaking hands, she flicked the shuttle’s interior and forward lights on, silently praying they still worked. She exhaled gratefully as the cabin lit up. The beams illuminated the forest ahead, just enough for her to get a sense of velocity. The stab of relief at getting the lights on dissipated as the forest zipped past at terrifying speed. The shuttle pitched and shook so hard she thought her teeth would rattle right out of her head.

She yelped as a breach blasted into the cabin behind her. Hull integrity dropped 50%.  More lights flashed. She realised with a chill, even if she landed this thing, it was unlikely to ever take off again. 

She used the village lights to orient her, and slowly, painfully, one adjustment at a time, she stabilised the decent. The rattling barely diminished, but at least the wild rolling stopped. She had to lose more speed, though, and get them down somewhere far away from Dartan.

“Spock?” She chanced an urgent glance over her shoulder. He’d been thrown to the floor. He was breathing, but didn’t stir at his name. No help there.

She cursed silently. _Okay, Lieutenant, you’ve trained for this._ Simulation Alpha-Six. Basic training at the academy, and then a refresher every year. She swallowed hard. She kept the village lights in sight, but guided the shuttle wide in a sweeping arc above the tree tops and away from the village. Ending up back at M’basi would be a monumentally bad idea.

With the instruments out, she was flying on instinct and trusting to luck. She knew there was a stretch wild forest to the west and beyond that, a lake. She aimed for the lake, skimming the tree tops to reduce speed. That reduced their velocity alright, but made the shuttle jerk and judder again.

Yet another warning light flashed on the instrument panel. She didn’t even know what that one meant, much less what to do about it. The hull integrity stats dropped further. The blasting and rattling from behind her was so loud she wanted to cover her ears. Her head swam and her stomach tied itself round in knots. This was one hell of a day. She tried to take deep breaths to calm herself, but it was no good: this was absolutely bloody terrifying.

Spock told her once, when she’d envied his ability not to feel fear, that it was not the presence or absence of fear that mattered, but the ability to continue anyway. She took a deep breath. She could do this. There had to be a place to put the shuttle down somewhere.

The forwards lights flashed off what seemed to be a lake. Good, perhaps that meant there was a beach or mudflat to put down on. Before she could react, the trees were gone, and they were gliding over open water. Her throat tightened and she glanced behind her at Spock’s prone form.  If they went down in the water, she’d never get him out. She threw the shuttle in a wide arc, and desperately looked for the shore. There, right in front of them, the water ended and the shore began. The shuttle skimmed the lake’s surface, and as it did, it lost more speed. The shore was still too far away. _Please_. _Please, just a little further._ She tried to gain altitude, but the shuttle was unresponsive. It touched the water again, and again.

“Spock!” she yelled over her shoulder. Desperation cracked her voice and her throat was tight and raspy. “Wake up, damn you!”  

Her thoughts raced. The door. She’d have to open it fast if they went in the water. Her heart thundered in her chest. She held her breath and  aimed the shuttle for the shoreline.

One more bounce and they crashed into the shore. A shower of sand sprayed high in the air as they ploughed through the beach. The shuttle began to tilt. Instinctively she threw her weight to the opposite side, as if her slight frame could make a difference. Spock slid across the cabin floor. Just when she was sure the shuttle would flip on its side, and fling Spock against the wall like a ragdoll, the floor evened out. With a rending and grinding of strained metal, the shuttle slowed down to a halt.

For a moment, Uhura sat gulping in short sharp breaths. Her hands shook as she removed her restraints. She’d done it. She’d put them down in one piece.

She struggled free of the seat and flung herself down to Spock’s side. “No, no, no,” she said, her throat tight with fear. She put her ear to his lips, and her trembling hand on his chest. Calm down, she told herself. Then she felt the rise and fall of his chest, and the whisper of his breath against her cheek. “Okay. You’re okay,” she said, as much to reassure herself as anything else.

After a moment, he spluttered and coughed. His eyelids flickered open and shut several times, and then focussed on hers. “I believe you have successfully landed this craft,” he said.

She let out a choked breath. No words came. It was too much. Dartan’s threats back in the village, the terrified sprint through the forest in the failing light, plunging through darkness waiting for the transporter beam to snatch her, and then crash landing the shuttle all alone, all of it flooded back and overwhelmed her. She found herself unable to say a single word. Tears pricked behind her eyes. She tried to force them back.

Spock looked around the shuttle. She didn’t really expect him to notice how she was feeling, that she was quivering and shaking and fighting back tears. Who _wouldn’t_ be in a state after that, damn it? She wasn’t a robot. The rational part of her was already reminding herself that this was just his way. That just because he started to assess the damage to the shuttle, and calculate the odds of their being rescued, it didn’t mean he didn’t care. But she _wanted_ him to ask her if she was alright. She wanted him to hold her and tell her she’d done a good job. Was that weak? It was certainly human.

His eyes flicked back to hers. “The Vulcan way would be to focus on assessing the damage and begin to make plans for—”

She sniffed, and turned her face away. She couldn’t keep a hint of bitterness from her voice. “I know—”

“—But my way,” he said carefully, as if he were testing the words, “is to enquire after your wellbeing.” He reached a hand to her face and wiped away a stray tear with his thumb. “I believe in these situations close physical proximity is comforting.”

She threw her arms around his shoulders. “Yes, Spock, physical proximity is comforting.” She let out a shuddering breath, half laughing, but mostly crying, and let the tears spill.

He held her close, affirming without words, that her emotions mattered to him. _She_ mattered to him. He rocked her gently until her sobs ceased and her tears subsided.    

#

Almost an hour had passed since the crash. Spock watched Uhura rifle through the medical supplies as she searched for a sterilizing agent and gauze. She’d already numbed his back with a hypospray. Although he couldn’t see the damage to his back, he knew from her sharp intake of breath— and the searing pain—that the blaster had burned through several layers of skin.

“I don’t know how you even stayed on your feet,” she said softly. She laid a hand on his shoulder. The contrasting sensations intrigued him. As the creeping numbness of the local anaesthetic replaced the pain, he became more aware of her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. Warm, light, and making his skin tingle. The first was absence of feeling; pain removed by medical science. The second generated a riot of sensations, none of them amenable to coherent analysis. The numbness was easy to understand, and a most welcome contrast to the blistering pain. But the fluttering in his chest, the tightness of his skin under her fingertips, amounted to something impossible to define. The feeling was not, he concluded, unwelcome. His head felt cloudy. He needed to meditate to restore his equilibrium. She’d asked him a question about how he stayed on his feet. He focused on that, to escape from the fog in his head.   

“Continued running was imperative,” he said.

She squeezed his shoulder gently. Again, the warmth of her hand on his skin generated a response in him. Facinating.  For a second, the image of her with her hands flat on his chest, face up towards him, flashed through his mind. He wrestled with that thought for a moment. At present, their relationship was poorly defined. They were less than lovers, but more than friends. Sometimes he felt sure he was a source of abject frustration to her. She craved a closeness and emotional connection he wasn’t sure how to negotiate. He stumbled through their interactions, never quite sure what to do or say next. Before he pushed these confusing thoughts away, though, he realised one thing with certainty. He liked the feeling of her hands on him. He liked the way that made _him_ feel.

She’d cleaned his wounds, and passed him a fresh shirt she’d found in the shuttle’s supplies. Then she stepped to the back of the cabin, and pulled a fresh uniform for herself from storage.

He stared at her for a moment, slowly realising that she wished to change from her soiled uniform into the dry one in her hands.

She glanced around, and when she saw him staring, she smiled gently.

He coughed, and turned quickly away. “I will run a full diagnostic, but it is highly unlikely the shuttle is spaceworthy.” He took two quick paces to the front of the shuttle. “Also, we already know Dartan’s phasic relay was required to boost the signal to enable inter-planetary communication. We will be unable to contact the Enterprise from here due to the high levels of trans-phasic interference.”

“But the Captain will come when we don’t check in. Our last message was due just after we left M’basi. He might be on his way now,” Uhrua said.

He glanced back, and then quickly to the front again as he saw she was pulling off her wet uniform, revealing curves of bare flesh. She stood boldly and clearly hadn’t felt it necessary to move out of his line of sight. Maybe she thought he wouldn’t care to look. Or, he mused, perhaps didn’t mind if he _did_ look. Wrinkling his brow in frustration at his inability to sustain a train of thought, he forced his attention back to the situation at hand.

“Unfortunately, I had made several disturbing discoveries just prior to our altercation with Dartan.” He kept his eyes frontwards, and began checking the structural damage. As he feared, the shuttle would never take off independently. He began to check the internal systems. The engines were sufficiently intact to maintain power. At least they would not be plunged into darkness.

“Oh?” Uhura said. She’d dressed and was now looking for somewhere to get the mud from her boots before she put them back on.

“Dartan had intercepted and falsified our reports. None of the messages containing our suspicions about sabotage of the defence system were sent. Instead, a request for an extension of our time here for two further weeks was transmitted. Using your voice.”

“He synthesied my voice?”

“Yes. I believe Dartan has been substituting the Letrinum crystals with lower grade gems. That’s why the system has degraded and the planetary defence grid has been weakened.”

“But he got it back on line quick enough to hit us.” Uhura rubbed the back of her neck, and titled her head to the side as she spoke.

“Agreed. I believe he has a stock pile of crystals. He’s been selling them off-world for years.”

Uhrua slumped into the co-pilot’s seat beside him. “Will he be able to use the grid to find us?” If he understood correctly her voice revealed weariness rather than fear.

“I have re-routed the shields to hide the ship from long-range scans. At first light, we must attempt to conceal the shuttle from visual reconnaissance. There is nothing more we can do until then”

“Alright.” Uhura nodded and sighed. “I’m going to try to get some sleep.”

The shuttle didn’t contain a separate sleeping cabin, but the passenger area could be transformed into a narrow bed by retracting the table and rearranging the seats.

“Do you need to sleep, Spock?” she asked, pausing with her hand on his shoulder again. Again her touch set off a flutter of uncertainty in his stomach. Indecision haunted him. Was this an invitation for intimacy, or simple concern that he needed sleep in his injured state? He wanted to lay with her. In truth, he’d desired increased intimacy with her for a long time. But he was deeply uncertain about what that desire represented. He was certainly in no fit state, physically or intellectually, to disentangle that complex question right now.  

“I am in need of meditation. This chair will suffice,” he said.

She sighed a little, and then nodded. She bent and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. Thank you for catching me,” she almost whispered.

Later, after he’d lowered the lights, and she lay behind him back in the shuttle, on the uncomfortable makeshift bed, the peace he sought meditation simply would not come. Images of her falling away from him intruded, flooded his mind, and her words echoed in his head.

 _Thank you for catching me_.

He felt himself falling. Falling into her eyes and falling under her soft spell. Falling into a place he was not equipped to deal with.

I caught you, he thought. Who will catch me?   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post a chapter of this story every week on a Friday. 
> 
> Let me know how I'm doing with this story and these characters by leaving me a comment. I love feedback! It helps me learn and grow as a writer. :)


	3. Hiding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and Uhura must conceal the shuttle craft, but it seems that's not all that's being hidden.

Uhura woke with a jolt. The dim, unfamiliar surroundings disoriented her, and her whole body felt like it had been battered and then forced to sleep on a stone mattress. She groaned and rubbed her neck. All in all, that wasn’t too far from the truth. She longed for her bed back on the Enterprise, rather than a row of three uncomfortable seats in a crashed shuttle craft.

“Spock?” She looked around, padded towards the cramped bathroom facilities at the rear of the craft, but he was nowhere inside. They’d established yesterday that their limited power should go on keeping the shields—hastily modified by Spock to conceal the vessel from long-range scans—operative. She’d successfully argued the point on keeping the lavatory functioning, but lost the case for the shower. Still, perhaps she could wash in the lake.  

After using the facilities, she noticed the shuttle doors were open a crack. She pulled them across and let the breeze roll in. She took a deep breath. The air here was clearer than in M’basi, where the air was thick with the tang of exhaust fumes and food cooking in street markets. Here by the lake, a fresh, pine-like note from the forest mixed with the cool air sweeping in from the water.

The sun, already up past the distant mountains, and half-way to its zenith, glinted and sparkled on the lake’s mirror-like surface. As she stepped down out of the shuttle she wondered how long she had slept, and why Spock didn’t wake her.  

Spock himself must have been busy for hours; he’d piled sand high around the shuttle’s base and sunk leafy branches into the sand, propping them against the _Galileo’s_ side. A pile of large green palm fronds and rocks were stacked nearby, ready to be placed on the roof as camouflage, she guessed.

He emerged from the forest a few hundred meters away, pulling more leafy material with him. As she walked towards him, the white sand between her toes and the sun on her back made her think of long-gone summer days. It had been years since she’d spent time on a beach under a clear blue sky like this one, building sandcastles and splashing in the sea. Life was so busy now, there was hardly a moment to just relax and enjoy simple pleasures.

“You’ve been busy,” she said as she reached him. She noticed he’d clipped a phaser to his belt. She hadn’t thought to pick one up from the armoured cupboard before she stepped out, and she instantly regretted the oversight.  

“It is agreeable to see you awake. Did you sleep well?” he replied, in a measured tone.

Uhrua smiled inwardly, wondering if he’d practiced that little opener. He’d started using pleasantries much more over recent weeks. Perhaps being around humans was rubbing off on him after all.

“Thank you, yes,” she said, rolling her shoulders in an effort to loosen them. Last night she’d fallen into a dreamless sleep, barely noticing how uncomfortable the makeshift bed was. Her back was complaining about it now.

She watched the way Spock moved, awkwardly, holding one shoulder higher than the other. She wondered how well his burn was healing. “Here, let me help.” She took one of the larger branches. “How’s your back?”

“Tolerable. Our first priority must be to obscure the shuttle from craft passing over-head. Of course, we will still be clearly visible up close.” They reached the shuttle, and put their loads down on the sand.

Uhura looked up at the roof. “If you give me a boost, I can get up there and then you can pass this up.” 

He stared at her for a moment, with his head on one side, one eyebrow arced. “A boost?”

“Oh, Spock, did you and your Vulcan friends never climb trees as children?”

“Vulcan children respect trees. We climbed on equipment provided for the purpose of physical training and exercise.”

“Well, you haven’t lived,” she declared, looking up at the side of the shuttle. “Put your hands together so I can—”

He understood, and clasped his hands together. She put a foot on his linked hands, a hand on his shoulder, and quickly clambered onto the roof.

The view from the top was peaceful, idyllic even. The iridescent blue of the lake rippled in a gentle breeze, and beyond the waters, snow-capped mountains filled the horizon. Uhura turned around, and behind her scattered palm trees at the edge of the lake gave way to a dense pine forest. The morning sun warmed her. It was hard to believe this was the same place she had felt such terror in the dark, driving rain, just a few hours ago.

She shuddered slightly, and realised Spock was passing up a fleshy green palm leaf.

For some minutes they transferred palms and stones to the roof, until the entire shuttle was covered. It wouldn’t withstand much wind, but it would do for now. Uhura perched on the edge of the shuttle. She hadn’t noticed while they were working, but suddenly it seemed a long way down. Her head swum, and suddenly a fear of falling swamped her. _Don’t be ridiculous, this is nothing like yesterday._ She remained uncertainly on the edge, fingering a palm.

Spock waited patiently below, saying nothing for a long moment.

She swallowed hard, embarrassed at her fear, but to her chagrin unable to move.

“It is not uncommon to feel residual fear after a terrifying experience such as falling as you did. I believe the human phrase is, get back into the saddle?” He reached his arms up to her. “Lieutenant, I will catch you.”

She nodded. The sand was so soft, she wouldn’t hurt herself even if she did fall. “I know, it’s just . . .” She stopped herself. This was no good,  She couldn’t give in to fear. She took a deep breath and aimed herself at his waiting arms.

She slid downwards, for only a few seconds, but she still yelped at the lurch in her stomach. Then she was in his arms. He steadied her. There was no danger of her falling off her feet. Her heart was racing, but this time she didn’t know if it was the fall or looking into his eyes that sent her into a spin.

“You’ve caught me again,” she said, breathlessly, feeling a little foolish and embarrassed, like a school-girl, even as she said it.

“Indeed,” he said. “Catching you is not unpleasant.”

He was still holding her, long past the moment it took to help her gain her balance.

She didn’t move. “It is not unpleasant to be caught by you,” she replied, looking up into his eyes. His eyes were as dark as her own, usually steady and constant, never revealing they had seen such terrible loss. He rarely spoke about it, but his mother, his people, his entire civilisation, were all gone. Was that the reason, she wondered, aside from his traditional Vulcan reserve, that he found it hard to let her get close? Those dark eyes were pinning her now, and she couldn’t move, she could barely breathe. His usual steady state disrupted, his composure discomposed, and desire burned behind his eyes. She wasn’t naive, she knew desire when she saw it in a man, and he was aflame right now.

He moved one hand from her waist up to the small of her back, and pulled her closer to his chest. He lowered his face to hers. It seemed, for the first time he would initiate a kiss.

She wanted his lips on hers. She needed him to want her in the same way she wanted him. He was so close she felt the rise and fall of his chest, and her own heart raced, because finally the mirror cracked and he was showing her, with his eyes, and his hands, and his breathe hot on her face, just what he wanted. He wanted her.

Then he turned his face to one side, away from her.

She closed her eyes, flooded with disappointment, and shook her head, unable to understand.

He’d falteringly explained to her once, that he didn’t have the same pressing need for intimacy human males did. She’d accepted that and respected he needed to take things slowly. But just lately it seemed the door would open, only to have it shut in her face again. That felt like rejection. It _was_ rejection. It hurt.

Then she heard it. In the distance, high above the lake, a vehicle was approaching

He grasped her hand and pulled her around the shuttle. “We must remain out of sight.”

They ducked inside and closed the door. Spock immediately checked the energy modulation on the shields. “I believe we are hidden from scans.”

Uhura initiated a scan of the approaching vehicle to confirm what she feared. “It’s one of Dartan’s.”

Spock was already on his feet, heading towards the armoured cupboard at the back of the shuttle. Seconds later, he handed her a phaser. He didn’t reproach her for leaving the shuttle without one.

“Range?” he asked her.

“On its present course, it will reach the beach in three minutes.” She looked desperately around. What could they do? The shuttle’s weapons were inoperable. They barely had power for lights, never mind torpedoes. If Dartan’s men looked out from their craft at the right moment, and recognised the bundle of twigs and logs on the beach as the disguised shuttle, they would blast them to oblivion in an instant.

She tracked the ship as it crossed the lake, panic clawing at her gut. She glanced across at Spock. He frowned intently at the instrument panel, sitting rigidly in the pilot’s seat, as if it was painful to let his back press into the chair. When he spoke his voice was clear and even, not betraying any discomfort, no hint of emotion. “The warp engine is beyond repair. I can increase the power output of one of the impulse engines to temporarily boost the shields. However, once our location is known ...”

Uhura shuddered. Had she really survived the impossible, been snatched from plunging to her death, only to end like this? She’d faced death before, but never like this, never stranded, alone, without the captain or crew to call on. Suddenly, she felt the weight of the life she had yet to live. And Spock? There were things they needed to say to one another, if they just had the chance.

She tracked the ship, a small oval blip on a screen, it hardly seemed possible it could end their lives. It travelled in an arc along the lake’s eastern shore and then, when she was sure it would pass right over their heads and would certainly see them, it peeled off to the east and eventually disappeared from the screen.

“I don’t think it saw us.” She let out a long breath, forcing her tense shoulders to relax. They had been lucky this time.

#

The shuttle craft _Galileo_ , was a light medium-range vehicle, and Uhura's quick inventory revealed rations, medical supplies and self-care and hygiene products suited to a range of species. She silently blessed the quartermaster when she found a tube of mint toothpaste and two toothbrushes during her rummage through the supply draws.

As she brushed her teeth, she decided the next thing to do was to tackle Spock about his back. She had the feeling he’d say it was alright, not to worry or fuss, but it clearly wasn’t. In fact, there were a few things that required a little more honesty on his part. He might pretend to be full of Vulcan reserve, but she saw—and felt—the way he’d responded to her on the beach. He wanted more, and he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t. She sighed. This was Spock. He could pretend anything.

She pulled her fingers distractedly through her hair, wondering if she’d find a hair brush in the supplies. Then again, perhaps a grooming one’s hair wasn’t considered essential to survival.

As she emerged from the small compartment, he sat at the front with his face an impassive mask, engrossed in the shuttle’s schematics and engine specs.

He glanced up. “I am no Mr Scott, but I believe I could use the cracked dilithium crystal from the warp engine to boost the communications array.”

“That’s worth a try,” she said. She put the medical kit down on the co-pilot’s chair. “I’d like to check your back, please.”

He shook his head. “That will not be nec—”

“How about you let me decide if it’s necessary?” she said firmly.

“Meditation will manage the pain.”

“Yes, I admire your stoicism,” she said, although she didn’t admire it at all at the moment. What was the point of suffering when a perfectly good remedy was easily available? That was a question that worked on so many levels, it made her head spin. She decided to stick to the obvious and not delve into the subtext for now. “I don’t think meditation will do such a great job managing a bacterial infection, will it?”

He narrowed his eyes, as if considering the logic of that statement. She pressed home the advantage. “You’re no good to me if you end up with a fever or blood poisoning.”

“True,” he conceded. He stood up and took off his shirt.

Uhura peeled back the dressing, wincing at what she saw underneath. The burn was the size of a grapefruit. No wonder he was moving stiffly. She reminded herself that the green didn’t mean the wound was infected. He was a Vulcan, his blood was based on copper, not iron like hers.

To her relief, a quick scan with the medical tricorder revealed no infection. The tricorder’s treatment function programmed the hypospray to deliver a combination of anti-biotics, pain killers and an accelerated healing agent. He flinched almost imperceptibly as she pressed the device to his upper arm. She covered the wound with a fresh dressing impregnated with a slow release version of the accelerated healing agent.

“That should settle things down,” she said, and hoped it was true. The medical tricorder was a handy instrument, but it was no substitute for a trained medic.

She rested her hand lightly on his shoulder. His upper arms were powerful, loaded with muscle, in fact. Were all Vulcan’s this heavy-set? Thinking back to other Vulcan’s she’d met, it seemed they came in the same range of body sizes humans did. He never spoke of working out. He certainly never emerged shirtless and sweaty from the gym like the captain did, but he was in good shape for a scientist. She realised his arm had tensed under her touch, as if the contact had gone on longer than he was comfortable with. He did not turn to look at her and he said nothing _._ She chided herself for letting her thoughts wander again, removed her hand, and stepped away.

Spock stood up, with his blue shirt in his hands, and remained in front of her, bare chested, eyes on hers. She tipped her head to one side, trying to weigh up his intentions. The silent dance they seemed to be doing around one another went on and she could almost feel the air crackling between them. He didn’t move towards her. If she took a step forward, would he shy away? She was tempted, sorely tempted, to step towards him and lay her hand on his bare chest, but she did not. She didn’t feel inclined to find out the hard way if he would pull back from her touch again. If he wanted to move things on between them, she decided, he should make a move. He had been about to on the beach, she felt sure of it. What was stopping him now?

He remained where he was. It was if he was stubbornly and silently rooted to the spot.

After a long moment, she sighed and said lightly, “I’m going to try to find a way to get a signal out onto the subspace frequencies.”

He nodded. “That is a logical way to proceed.”

“I’ll try a modulated tachyon beam to see if that will get past the phasic disruption. You see what you can do to get more power,” she added firmly.

This whole situation was deeply ironic. She’d wished for this very thing, a few days alone together to work things out, free from questioning looks or smart remarks from Doctor McCoy, or anyone else. Right now, working things out seemed harder than ever. She shook her head, as if she could shake the feeling of uncertainty right off, and tried to put the baffling complexities of their relationship to the back of her mind. She started to calculate the most likely frequencies to get a message off this planet, but not before a stray thought ran through her head. _Be careful what you wish for, Lieutenant, you might get it._

 #

On the bridge of the Enterprise, Jim Kirk raised an eyebrow at the message from Denab. Uhura reported the mission progressing well, but requested two more weeks to complete the work. It sounded to him like they were on a bit of a holiday. He wasn’t a fool, he’d noticed the tension in the air between them. An extra two weeks for a mission like that was a bit unorthodox, but then again, maybe they would come back on duty having resolved what-ever-the-hell was going on between them. Call it shore leave; god knows they’d earned it.

Frankly, Jim though Spock should put up or shut up. Skirting around each other like they were didn’t seem healthy for either of them. Jim knew what _he’d_ do in Spock’s shoes. As their captain, he didn’t give a damn what Spock and Uhrua did on their time off, as long as they worked well together. They were adults. People on starships fell in and out of love—and bed— all the time, just the same as they did in a warp coil factory or pea processing plant. It was high time Starfleet recognised that. In fact, there was a commission looking at building family provision into the next generation of starships. That was progress. Not in his lifetime, maybe, but progress all the same.

As a friend to both of them, Jim just wanted to see them happy. He ticked the ‘approved’ function on the request form, and pinged it to the coms officer to send to Denab. He smiled and sat back in his chair. The Enterprise could survive a couple more weeks without Spock and Uhura.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this instalment! If anyone feels like working with me as a beta reader on this story, get in touch via my tumblr blog https://www.tumblr.com/blog/my-writing-life  
> or find me on twitter https://twitter.com/KateCol17


	4. Distraction

Spock eased himself into the small bathroom aboard the damaged _Galileo_. He really needed some time alone, to gather his thoughts, cool the heat running through his veins, and regain his equilibrium. Then maybe he could focus on the task at hand and not find himself constantly distracted by Uhura’s physical presence.

He picked up the toothbrush and began to carefully and systematically brush his teeth, focusing on the taste of the mint, the rhythm of the brush, to create a mindful, calm state. That worked well—for several seconds— and then she was in his thoughts; the way her soft eyes locked with his, the way her mouth curved at the edges as she smiled, and most of all how close he had been to kissing her on the beach just now. He put down the toothbrush with a clunk. No, this was no good. He had to focus on the task in hand. It wasn’t logical to expend mental energy on non-essential relational issues at the moment. The priorities must be attempt to increase the power available for defensive and communication functions, and then scout the immediate area. Some time alone in the woods would enable him to compose himself.

He left the bathroom and went to the shuttle’s small engine section at the rear of the craft. As he worked on the circuitry, he reflected. It was clear now that the mission to M’basi had been a sham from the start. Members of the village council had requested Starfleet’s help without consulting Dartan. Once Spock realised Dartan was using his position as lead engineer to sell the Letrinium crystals, many other things, like the way people fell silent around him, and his luxurious lifestyle, began to make sense.

Once Spock uncovered Dartan’s duplicity people suddenly got very keen to talk. It was a nervous young technician, called Petan, obviously afraid, who warned Spock about Dartan. _He’s a thief, yes, but he’s an animal too. I know what he’s done to more than one of the women who work here, but I’ve never spoken out._ Petan had hung his head as he went on. _I’m not proud of it. I should have spoken up. Dartan makes me sick. You should get your colleague away from him._ The young man’s pale blue eyes burned into Spock, and a raw, gnawing fury gripped the pit of his stomach.

Spock curled his fist involuntarily and then immediately forced himself to open his hands. Shame at his actions in the village needled him. When he’d found Dartan cornering Uhura, Spock’s world exploded into red. Logic failed him, diplomacy failed him, words failed him, and he struck out with shocking savagery. And that was indicative of the problem. Uhura destabilised him. His hard-won grip on his visceral and emotional responses slipped into something he was far less able to control. Somehow, he felt thrown off balance, less Vulcan, around her. It seemed deeply inappropriate. He was one of a handful remaining Vulcan’s who had been off-world when disaster struck. Surely it was his duty to become _more_ Vulcan, not less. To take a Vulcan mate and… Somehow, the thought of his _duty_ left him cold, where as being close to her, it warmed him, brought a mass of visceral reactions that rocked him, sometimes, but were also compulsive. Like an addiction. And he found himself, like an addict, craving more of those feelings.

No matter how diligently he meditated, his thoughts always returned to her. This baffled him. Perhaps this was what his father meant when he’d explained that he had to marry Amanda Grayson.

_I can do no other._

Perhaps Earth’s poets were right. Love wasn’t a choice. Love wasn’t rational or logical. It was a force of nature. One could not fight a hurricane.

Spock could see that his attempts to increase the power to communications array were as ineffective as his attempts to control his thoughts. He took deep breath to compose himself and returned to the front of the shuttle, where Uhura was engrossed in yet another modulation of the tachyon beam. She’d hoped it would penetrate this planet’s shroud of phasic disturbance.

“It’s no good. I’ve tried thirty different variances. The beam scatters soon as it hits the mesosphere.” She sighed and dragged her fingers through her hair. “Did you have any luck?”

“Luck was not a relevant factor—”

“It’s just an expression, Spock,” she said.

She held her eyes closed for a brief moment. She might be the expert in communications, but he found the many ways _she_ communicated endlessly fascinating. He caught himself, often, examining her micro-expressions; the widening of her eyes when something pleased her, the pull of her eyebrows in and up when she was sad. Right now, she had closed her eyes to neutralise her face and suppress her frustration at his comment.

After a moment she looked up at him again. Her smile was warm and reached her eyes. “I meant, were you able to boost the power to the coms relay?”

“Negative. Any additional load on the system will increase the rate of engine failure. At best, we can sustain the shields for three more days.”

“Then we’ll be visible to scans?”

“Indeed. Additionally, it is my belief that even if we reached the _Enterprise_ with a message, when the Captain arrives, he will not find us.”

“What do you mean?”

“At the beginning of this mission, we believed the phase disturbance was the cause of the defence grid’s malfunction. Now I believe it was Dartan’s interference with the defence grid, by substituting low grade Letrinium crystals, which caused this planet’s naturally occurring phase shift to increase exponentially.”

Uhura sat up-right, alarm etched on to her face. “Why will that stop the _Enterprise_ finding us?”

“We will always be out of phase with anything outside the planet. In effect, we will not be here at the same space-time coordinates as the _Enterprise_.”

“But Dartan got messages out. And we brought the shuttle down and made contact with him—” Her voice faltered, as she answered her own question. “—I suppose the disturbance is much higher now?”

“Affirmative. We do not have sufficient power to compensate the way he does to get messages out.”

“Dartan will find the shuttle easily once the shields fail,” Uhura said, a note of concern clear in her voice. “So, we have three days to work out how to get a message off this planet, and find a way for the Enterprise to find us when the captain gets here.” Her brows set in a determined expression and she returned to work.

#

The day dragged on. Uhura became more frustrated, although she worked tirelessly, trying different frequencies and carrier waves to contact the _Enterprise_. Nothing worked. She wanted to scream. After hours of sitting in the cabin she thought she would go stir crazy. She stood up, stretching her back and wiggling her shoulders to loosen the knot that had settled there sometime during the afternoon.

She grabbed two grabbed two silver foiled thermal food packs and decided to wait on the beach. She sat on the warm sand by the water’s edge. Spock had left a couple of hours ago to reconnoitre the forest, but promised to be back before dark. The sun was low on the horizon over the lake now, painting the clouds with silver and red. She leant back and let her fingers sink into the warm sand. Then she kicked her foot-ware off and wiggled her toes in the sand. She closed her eyes and let the sun’s rays warm her skin. Everything felt so peaceful now, the water gently sloshing on the shore, a bird in the forest behind her signing a lilting, complex song, declaring its territory, or perhaps calling its mate. After a moment’s silence another bird replied from deeper in the forest, with a similar, but not quite identical, song. Maybe she was on the nest, calling her mate home. 

After a while, Uhura became aware of a presence beside her. A small deer–like creature approached the water’s edge, just a few feet away. Its coat was dappled chestnut, shining in the sunlight, and it had two stubby, fur covered antlers atop its small head. She guessed it was young, perhaps half grown. Its eyes were deep brown and almost comically large as it moved its head from side to side, watching her. Uhura held still, not wanting to frighten the animal away. After a moment of indecision, when it seemed to consider flight, it turned away from her and continued towards the lake. It twitched a velvety nose as if sniffing and checking out the water, and then thrust its nose down to drink. The lapping of its tongue, the ripples it sent across the water, the shine of its coat in the early evening light, something in the simplicity of the moment delighted Uhura.

After a while the little creature lifted its head and looked in her direction again. For a moment she wondered if it might let her get closer enough to hold out her hand, to have its warm nose nestle in her palm, as she had once as a child when her father showed her how to hold her palm flat to feed the gazelles. Then she realised its eyes were looking past her. She turned, to find Spock standing silently on the sand. How long had he been watching?

The creature bolted suddenly and disappeared into the forest.

“Spock,” she said, a little surprised. “How long have you been standing there?”

“I did not wish to disturb you,” he said.

She raised a hand to shield her eyes against the sun. “Did you find anything?”

“Towards the end of my trip, I found evidence of tracks that would indicate regular use. I will follow them further tomorrow.” He paused. “Did your efforts meet with success?”

Uhura shook her head. “Nothing. I’m out of ideas.”

He hovered uncertainly, not seeming to want to sit, or proceed to the shuttle either. She stood up. “I’ve prepared dinner.” She waved one of the silver foil packs and grinned. “Let’s sit out here and eat. I’ve had enough being inside for one day.”

He sat beside her, knees bent, black boots dug into the sand.

Uhura activated the food pack’s self-heating mechanism. Then she glanced over at his booted feet. “You could take your boots off.”

“I could,” he agreed, with one of those slightly baffled looks that actually made her heart melt.

She suppressed a smile and re-phrased her statement. “Why don’t you take your boots off?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You are suggesting that I bare my feet, in order to experience the sensation of sand between my toes. You found this activity pleasurable, and extrapolate that I might also find the experience pleasurable.”

She kept the smile that just wanted to leak onto her face at bay. He was trying so hard to understand the world from her point of view. “Exactly,” she said. “You never know what you are going to find pleasurable until you try it.”

He pulled off first one boot, and then the other, followed by black socks, which he tucked carefully inside each boot. “On Vulcan, the experience of submerging one’s feet in the sand would be rash. Desert temperatures could reach—”

“Spock, we are not on Vulcan. Nothing here will burn you.”

He looked up. “I believe it is said that unless one risks getting burned, one will miss out on many pleasurable experiences.” He slowly dug his toes into the sand, wiggling them as he did so, until his feet were fully submerged.

The colour tab on the food packs turned green, indicating they were ready to eat, so she passed one over to him. “Here’s to pleasurable experiences, then.”

He simply raised an eyebrow.

After they had eaten, Uhura paddled in the shallows of the lake, enjoying the slosh of the warm water under her toes. “Do you think it’s safe to swim?” she called to Spock. There must be an hour of light left, and she’d dearly love to get clean.

“Unknown. I have scanned the lake and found only small lifeforms, but without a cross reference it is impossible to tell if they are hazardous or not. I do not recommend immersion.”

He sat watching her. She wished he’d get up so they could walk with her along the water’s edge holding hands. Then again, perhaps he’d reached his limit of emotional connection for one day, if that’s what that was back then. It certainly felt like it to her, but it was impossible to tell for sure with him. Could they really make it together, she wondered, or was she reaching for something that just wasn’t there? Would she be forever paddling in the metaphorical lake while he watched, never meeting each other emotionally?

A roar rang from the forest. He was on his feet in a moment, running towards her, phaser drawn. She’d left hers inside again, and inwardly cringed and cursed her oversight.

He motioned her behind him. “I found evidence of a predator in the forest. In the form of dismembered large mammals.”

They moved quickly towards their belongings on the shore. Snarling erupted in the trees. The tiny deer that had been drinking at the lake earlier, or one just like it, burst onto the shore. It zig zagged across the sand. Uhura paused. Spock urged her forwards.

A leathery, dark-skinned beast, three times the size of the deer, sprang from the forest. Its powerful front paws sunk into the sand. It paused, teeth bared, eyes bright yellow in a feline head, ears pricked upwards. It tracked the deer haring across the shore. It pounced. Three mighty leaps brought it so close to the fleeing creature. Uhura yelped. Spock grabbed her hand and they sprinted for the shuttle.

Again Uhura paused. Her stomach turned over. The slavering beast was one leap away from the deer. It ran in terror, nostrils flared. She tugged Spock’s arm. “Spock, shoot it!” she demanded.   

He ignored her and opened the shuttle door. “Inside,” he said, urgently.

The beast roared. A high pitched shriek, followed by a grunt, rang out.

Uhura stumbled inside the shuttle, her stomach turning over, gasping for breath in a horror-filled rage. Spock slammed the door shut.

“Why didn’t you do something?” she said furiously, fumbling to activate the view screen with trembling fingers. “That creature was helpless!” Tears began to sting her eyes. For a moment the sensation of falling through darkness hit her again and she had to grip the side of the helm to steady herself.

Spock remained impassive. “It would be illogical to draw attention to our position by firing a weapon. Additionally, this ecosystem—”

“How can you be so callous?” she snapped. Heat rushed to her face. The room swam around her. She was back on the cliff’s edge again, swinging over the abyss.

Somewhere, deep in the back of her mind, she knew Spock was right. But that didn’t change how she _felt_. She fumbled again for a monitor switch she couldn’t find. She knew she would hate what was going on outside, but something compelled her to look.

He gently covered her fingers with his. She stared down at his hand. Her throat felt raw as she tried to say something to explain the mass of emotions churning through her. No words came. A small choked sob slipped out as she looked up at him.  

Spock took her fingers, and clasped her small hands gently between his larger ones. He held them steadily for a moment, and then put one arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer.

She let her head fall towards his chest, and relaxed into his arms. “I know. I know you’re right, Spock. I just. . .”

“It is not illogical to wish to preserve a life,” he said softly.

And that was when she realised, with that small, validating remark, that despite all their differences, and the difficulties they would surely face, that this relationship was worth fighting for.


	5. Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and Uhura spend another uncomfortable night in the shuttle. The next day, Uhura makes a disturbing discovery and Spock comes face to face with a predator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy the story!
> 
> Let me know in the comments what you like or don't like (feedback is always encouraging and helps me improve my writing), or just say hello :) 
> 
> Find me:  
> www.twitter.com/KateCol17  
> www.tumblr.com/blog/my-writing-life

From the co-pilot’s chair, Spock watched Uhura shift in her sleep. She had treated his wound again, declared it looked much better, and indeed it felt less painful than yesterday. She had offered him the three chair arrangement to sleep on; naturally he declined. She was half-curled onto the chairs, but hardly looked comfortable. He was much taller than she and would never fit. It would be better, he mused, to remove the table and take out the chairs altogether, create a mattress of sorts from whatever they could find, and leave a space where she could lay stretched out. Where they could both lay, if they so desired. He would eventually need to sleep; meditation in a chair was not an adequate substitute no matter how diligent.

She murmured and moved in her sleep. The steady rise and fall of her chest, her delicate features, still strikingly beautiful even in the dim light, almost mesmerised him. Time seemed to slip away. He closed his eyes and let himself wonder just how long had he watched her.  _ All my life _ , the answer seemed to come. 

Later, when the night outside had been still for some time, and the full moon was high, Spock silently ventured out of the shuttle, phaser in hand. As he retrieved their abandoned shoes from the shore he passed a patch of sand much darker than the rest. Fur and blood. How fragile life is. One moment the creature had been lapping water on the lakeside: the next running, terror and death. The patch of beach seemed red in the moonlight and he felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He kicked at the sand, covering evidence of the killing. But icy fingers had already curled around his heart. It was not logical, but for a moment, he felt himself back on the red sands of Vulcan, helpless, the world exploding around him and his mother falling through his fingertips. 

His whole body tensed, his jaw clenched. He forced his feet to move across the sand, to get back inside the shuttle, where sanity reigned. For a moment in the blackness he could see nothing. Where was Nyota? Something cold gripped his chest. The agony of that moment crashed back in on him, as the woman who bore him, raised him, guided him in walking the line between two worlds, slipped into the abyss.  

Then he heard Nyota’s gentle breathing and when his eyes adjusted he could see she was still lying where she had been, sleeping peacefully. 

_ It is illogical to equate the two scenarios. This is not Vulcan. Noyta is certainly not your mother. You caught her in time; she did not fall to her death.She is quite safe.  _

He sat down in the chair, and took long, soothing breaths.  _ Still the mind. _

He felt deeply tired now, weary to his bones. The burn on his back itched and pulled. He had not slept last night. He was almost afraid to close his eyes, for while he was awake, he could marshal his thoughts, remind himself that he had caught Uhura as she fell, see that she was alive and well. His dreams may not be so kind.    

He tried to guide his thoughts to create a mindful state, a heightened awareness of his body and mind, but random images of people and places intruded. The world blurred at the edges. He fought it for a while, forced himself to remain awake, by focusing on his breathing, but in time the world shifted again, and eventually he slipped into sleep.

_ The world was ending. Flames. Everything he knew, everything he was, cracked apart. His mother looked at him, her eyes widening in surprise as the cliff collapsed under her feet. He lunged forward. This time he would catch her. He would be faster. Be a better son. But she fell, she always fell. He screamed and threw himself to the cliff’s edge. Amanda Grayson was spinning and falling into oblivion, just beyond his reach, beyond the reach of the transporter, beyond hope, spinning and falling to her death.  _

_ Her body morphed and changed. Now it was not his mother, but Nyota falling, and this time his legs wouldn’t move. He had to run, but he could not. A deep fury welled in his chest. He raged at the universe. _

Hands on his shoulder. “Spock!”

He jolted awake. His breath came in short gasps, his forehead sticky with sweat, heart thundering. Nyota stood in front of him. He clutched both her arms.

“It’s alright.” Her voice was soft and soothing. She was here, right in front of him, flesh and blood, not falling and spinning into darkness and death.

His hands trembled, he was aware that he was holding her arms too hard, and he immediately felt ashamed at losing control, yet he could not let her go. If he did, how could he be sure she was real, alive and well? He fought to bring his heart rate down. “I . . .” he said, his voice cracked. 

“It’s alright,” she repeated. “You were dreaming. It was just a dream.”

“I was on Vulcan,” he whispered. “I could not save her.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Your mother. . . I didn’t think. . .” She gently curled a hand to the back of his head, her fingers in his hair, and pulled him close.

He measured each breath. This was not Vulcan. He had saved Nyota where he failed to save his mother. Noyta was here, flesh and blood in his arms. He felt the warmth of her chest against his cheek. In time, his breathing slowed and the turmoil subsided. 

Other feelings, harder to define, but just as urgent crept into his awareness. Want. Need. Desire. He recognised the feelings for what they were; the desire to keep holding her, wanting to kiss her as she had kissed him. Oh, he wanted her body close to his, to tangle his hands in her hair, feel her lips against his own, yet, he was also afraid. Could he ever be what she needed? She was human, fragile. What if he overwhelmed her, hurt her even? He didn’t think he could stand it. Besides that, did he have the right to follow his selfish desires when so few Vulcans remained?

“It’s alright,” she murmured again.

He felt every breath she took, her heart beating and he was so close to acting on his feelings the indecision became physically painful, trapped as he was between the better angels of his nature and his almost overwhelming desire to kiss her. 

She took a gentle step backwards, breaking the contact, breaking the spell. “Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?”

His body screamed,  _ everything, you can do everything for me. _

Yet his calm, collected Vulcan voice explained no, he was merely insufficiently rested and needed to meditate. “There is no need to be concerned. Go back to sleep.” 

Another voice echoed in his head, a southern inflection steeped with irony.  _ You Vulcan fool. _

Spock closed his eyes briefly, and answered his friend’s imagined voice in a way he never would out loud.  _ You are right, Dr McCoy. In this instance, I believe I am indeed a Vulcan fool. _

#

Uhura woke to see Spock dozing in the chair, last night’s terror gone, his face peaceful and relaxed, his hands clasped on his lap.

She had been caught up in her own fears, forgetting his mother fell to her death right in front of him. It must have brought all that flooding back to him. She wished he would talk to her about how he felt.

In his sleep, his mouth twitched into the briefest of smiles, and then reverted to its neutral state. Perhaps he couldn’t rein his emotions in so fiercely in his dreams. Perhaps he was dreaming of  _ her _ . Or perhaps it was just a stray twitch of his cheek muscles. Whatever it was, she was pleased to see it and let him continue sleeping. 

She left the shuttle quietly and walked down to the lakeside. The sun creeping over the distant mountains cast a silver tint over the lake, and a whole chorus of birdsong carried through the still air from the forest behind her. She sloshed her bare feet in the lake, the water cool and fresh on her toes. She would dearly love to swim, but mindful of Spock’s warning she settled for splashing water on her face.

Yesterday’s failed attempts at getting a signal out of the planet’s distortion field were deeply frustrating. Everything she tried hit a brick wall, so perhaps it was time for a new tactic. If she couldn’t get a signal out, perhaps she could hide a message in the binary code and piggyback one of Dartan’s transmissions. Unless he ran each message through a high level encryption subroutine, which he’d never shown signs of doing, then he’d never know. They could contact the  _ Enterprise _ . Although that wouldn’t solve the problem of them being out of phase when the captain got here. How terrible it would be to know help was close at hand but couldn’t reach them. There had to be a solution, though, they just hadn’t found it yet. With that in mind, she turned back to the shuttle. Time to get to work.

#

Spock was awake when she returned, gloriously tousled and unshaven. She hadn’t found a hair brush, and although she had pointed out to him there was shaving equipment in the supplies draw, he hadn’t used it. There was something deliciously unwound about the way he looked now, looser, his uniform crumpled, and his chin rough. She realised she must look just as unkempt, and she couldn’t bring herself to care. Existing outside of the carefully proscribed Starfleet regulation hairstyles and dress code brought a sense of freedom. 

“Good morning,” he greeted her. If he was unsettled, or felt embarrassed about last night, he didn’t show it. He stood staring at the seats and crumpled blanket where she had slept. “This sleeping arrangement does not seem comfortable. It would not take long to remove these chairs and create a larger sleeping area here.”

“So you could get comfortable too?” Uhura said, a hint of mischief in her voice, looking at the floor space. It would easily accommodate two people. The thought of sleeping next to him brought up several interesting possibilities in her head.

“That was not my primary motivator, but it would be an additional gain from the exercise.”

Uhura nodded, keeping her face straight. “Let’s get to it, then, directly after breakfast.”

#

They ate a hasty breakfast of foil-wrapped cereal bars and juice concentrate, and then set to work clearing a better sleeping area. 

Spock used a laser cutter to remove the hinges securing the fold-down table to the shuttle’s wall.

“I thought I’d use one of the encrypted distress codes and embed it in one of Dartan’s transmissions. It’s worth trying,” she said, chewing her lip, “Don’t you think?”

He considered this as they carried the table out of the shuttle and placed it on the sand. “Agreed,” he said. Even if didn’t work--and he shared her uncertainty--action was preferable to inaction. Human beings felt better if they were  _ doing _ something. He didn’t doubt her ability to conceal a message in one of Dartan’s transmissions, but someone noticing and decoding it on the Enterprise would depend on luck. Getting back to the  _ Enterprise _ through the layers of phasic disturbance would be a whole other problem. 

They returned to the shuttle and he began cutting the seats from the deck. “I believe there may be areas where the phasic disturbances is less dense. If we can find such a location we may communicate successfully with the  _ Enterprise. _ ” The laser cutter’s blue energy arc sliced through the metal struts holding the seats in place.

“They can beam us up? Or send a shuttle?” Uhura said, as she rocked one of the chairs to see if it was freed. “You need to cut through there,” she said, pointing to the place where the seat’s base was still joined.

“Unknown. However, I have made a modification to track down any promising areas.”

“Okay. That’s a start,” Uhura said. 

They picked up the seats and one by one, put them outside, leaving a clear space in the center of the shuttle. They both stood for a moment and looked at the space they had created. It was still a fairly narrow strip of hard floor, but at least they could lay without curling up awkwardly.

“It’s hardly the honeymoon suite, is it?” Uhura said.

“We are not on a honeymoon, so—”

Uhura sighed and shook her head. “No, we are not.” She waved a hand at the floor. “I’ll use some of the stuffing from the chairs to soften the floor a bit.” With that, she stalked out of the door. 

He watched her step down onto the beach, rubbing the back of her neck as she went, and he wondered if he would ever get things right with her.  _ That  _ message, laced with barely concealed disappointment and suppressed frustration, had not been hard to decode at all. 

He gathered up the equipment he needed and followed her out. She was rearranging the branches and leaves concealing the shuttle. 

He hesitated, one hand on the black leather covered chair now resting incongruently on the white sands. She was watching him, he thought. He knew that greetings and departures involved a ritual he was supposed to follow, and it very likely did not include the Vulcan salutation to live long and prosper. 

He took a step towards her, searching for the right words. Starfleet protocols failed him just as fully as Vulcan forms of address. 

“Will you be alright while I am gone?” he said.

“Of course I will,” she said, an abrupt edge to her voice. Then she looked across at him, and her eyes seemed to soften. “But I do appreciate you asking.”

Her eyes were doing that thing they did, locking with his and making his pulse spike. This was exactly why the Vulcan way was better, he decided. How did humans stand all this emotional turbulence and its unsettling impact on visceral functions? Heart thumping, unasked for thoughts crowding the head, it was no wonder human males were so easily distracted! 

But, before he even knew what he was doing, he’d stepped around the black chairs and had his hands on her waist and he was pulling her close and kissing her. He felt her gasp in surprise, hesitate for a moment, and then she kissed him back. 

“Take care,” she said, when the kiss broke. 

He nodded, deliberately monitoring his breathing to slow it. “I will exercise caution. And you, please remember to carry your phaser when you leave the shuttle.”

“I will.”

He turned away from her then, and quickly walked to the forest, towards the track he had found the previous day. Before he entered the trees, he turned and saw her watching. The wind caught her hair, and she raised a hand to him. She was beautiful, intelligent, passionate, and she was, he was becoming more and more convinced, inevitable.     

#

The forest darkened as the trees became more tangled and dense, and the paths through the undergrowth narrow and winding, used by animals, or small humanoids, perhaps. He pushed back the branches and a scrubby bush, full of evil-looking thorns, clawed at his uniform. When he reached a small clearing he paused to scan the surroundings. 

There were no large animals around, thankfully no sign of last night’s predator. The flora was interesting; his scan showed several plants common to this sector which were toxic if ingested. One protected itself by spraying a white, sappy substance that could blind. Spock made a mental note of the yellow-green fleshy leaves, and resolved to give the plant a wide berth. 

The phasic disturbance was as strong here as it was on the beach, so Spock pressed on towards higher ground. He’d downloaded data from the shuttle’s logs to create a topological representation of the immediate area, and he knew there should be a hill soon.

He pressed on until the trees thinned and the ground took an upward turn, and he saw the apex of a small hill ahead. The phasic disturbance decreased at a steady rate as he climbed the hill. By the time he reached the top, he had a working hypothesis that if they could reach a high enough altitude, the Enterprise would be able to beam them up.

From the top of the hill, he had a clear view across the forest, and could see larger, well-trodden tracks winding through the trees to the west of where they had crash-landed, revealing the area to be inhabited. He could not see the lake, but his thoughts instantly returned there. She was alone, and this area was clearly frequently used. He pulled errant thoughts in. Nyota was not helpless, far from it, she was an officer and a competent one at that. But she’d forgotten to take her phaser outside, his mind insidiously chimed in, what if something happened to her? Again, he stopped that train of thought. Is this why, he wondered, the historical human prohibitions on the genders serving in the military side by side existed? Once officers became emotionally involved they could no longer be objective? 

He wondered if he would he feel the same concern if it was the captain, or Dr McCoy, back at the shuttle. He suspected—knew—he would not. Therefore, it was logical to afford Nytoa the same level of respect, regardless of his own subjective experience and levels of concern. He’d fallen foul of trying to arrange her out of his life once, when he tried to prevent her being assigned to the  _ Enterprise _ . He’d learned a lot since then. Nevertheless, he should return to the beach. He hurried down the hill and back into the woods. 

#

Back in the shuttle, Uhura sat with her brow furrowed, rubbing her neck, hoping to ease the stiffness that settled there during the hours she’d sat at the communications panel. She stood up, rolled her shoulders, and then squatted to open the inspection hatch beneath the panel. If she modulated the resonant frequency by increasing the inductance in the hyper-coil, then perhaps—

The open channel crackled to life. Unfamiliar voices filled the shuttle. 

“… _ shipment due in three days.” _

_ “Affirmative. Have you located the Starfleet personnel?” _

_ “We’ve intensified the search.” _

“ _Dartan wants the crystals they stole back, and the woman alive. But_ _shoot the male on sight.”_ The voice crackled with leering laughter. “ _This one’s off the books, so you can take your time bringing her back, if you know what I mean.”_

Uhrua gasped and recoiled, a chill settling in her stomach: branded thieves, on the run for their lives, that was bad enough. But whatever Dartan had planned—off the books—didn’t bare thinking about. 

With effort, she forced her mind not to go there. Whatever foul notions were going through his head, he wouldn’t get the chance. They were getting the hell out of here. She pulled herself up from the floor, more determined than ever to find a way to get a message to the _Enterprise_. 

#

Spock paused between two tall pines. That sound again; rustling in the bushes, cracking twigs. He flicked the tricorder on and saw the  _ blip, blip, blip  _  of a life-form a few meters behind him. Its size was impossible to determine. He dropped the tricorder on its strap around his neck and drew his phaser. He pressed on through the trees, following a well-worn path, leaves and twigs snapping underfoot, his feet roasting in his Starfleet issue boots. The sun was at its zenith now, making the day the hottest since they arrived. His shirt clung to him and sweat beaded on his forehead. He’d finished the last of his water half an hour before and already his throat was dry. 

More crackling and rustling, undergrowth twitching, as if the very forest was alive. He froze, phaser pointed at the bushes. 

Something exploded into view. He aimed his weapon. Then he saw it, small, brown, startled eyes, antlers, squealing in terror. The snarling jaws of the predator at its heels. The deer darted, zig zagged, across the clearing and out of sight into the trees.

The beast turned its head towards Spock. Its top lip curled, its black tongue just visible past jagged teeth, and it made low, rumbling growl. Spock stood his ground: the creature sprang. He fired, but the animal’s momentum carried it forwards, and the last thing Spock saw before the world went dark, was a pale leathery underbelly and claws as black as night.


	6. Under a Sky so Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and Uhura find they are not alone on the beach.

As he came around, Spock became aware of a heavy weight pressed on his chest. He turned his head away from the foul stench of animal breath. Blood splattered his face and was iron-tanged on his lips. He shoved the panting, whimpering creature away with revulsion. After shuddering for a few moments on the forest floor, it fell silent.

Spock wiped the blood from his mouth, still dazed. How long had he been out? It didn’t matter. He forced himself to his feet and began to run, and he didn’t stop until he reached the beach. He paused at the threshold between the sand and the forest, catching his breath and regaining his composure. Nyota was nowhere in sight, and that meant—he hoped—she was safe inside the craft. He kept his phaser drawn, just in case. For a moment he contemplated washing the blood off in the lake before going into the shuttle, but his need to see her was greater than his need to be clean.

As he stepped into the shuttle, she started, drew her weapon with wide eyes, and then holstered it again immediately.

“Spock! What happened?”

“I am uninjured. The creature that attacked me did not fare so well.”

She embraced him, trembling slightly. “We have to get out of here. I overheard a transmission. They’re searching for us. Once the shields go, we’re...”

“Agreed,” he said. He glanced at the shield’s status. They would last 48 hours at best. “We have two days. Did you make progress on contacting the _Enterprise_? _”_

“I’ve concealed a coded signal inside the carrier wave of one of Dartan’s messages, on a subspace frequency the Enterprise routinely monitors. I just hope someone realises what it is and decrypts it.”

“Good. I believe I have found a way to avoid the phasic disturbance. We must get to an elevated altitude.”

“How high?”

“Unclear, but we need to head to the mountains.”

“Good. We can’t stay here once the shields go, anyway.”

She took half a step back, and then reached a hand to his face. “Look at you, you’re covered in blood.”

“I will wash in the lake.”

He touched her face in turn; her expression, forehead knitted together in concern, her trembling hands, told him something wasn’t right, something more than an animal’s blood on his face.

“What is wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. We just need to get out of here, that’s all. Dartan’s looking for us.”

She stood on her toes and quickly, delicately, kissed the cheek free of blood. “I’ll find you a wash cloth.”

#

Later, Uhura watched Spock, shirtless, standing by the lake, washing the red blood from his face and neck. Again, she felt the desire to touch his chest, and now she felt more confident he wouldn’t shy away, but her instincts still told her to let him set the pace of their physical relationship. She did need to check that wound on his back though, so she joined him by the water. She was tempted to swim, but that would be risky, she knew. By now she was really overdue a proper wash. She rolled her neck again. A swim might loosen her shoulders too.

“Let me check your—” She paused.

In the distance, on the beach, three figures wandered into view. She quickly pulled Spock into a crouch. “Over there,” she said, and pointed at the figures. Keeping low, they hurried back inside the _Galileo._

“Can you get a visual?” she asked Spock once they were inside the shuttle.

He configured the on-board camera to sweep up the shore line. It zoomed in on the three figures.

“Oh!” Uhura exclaimed. They were children. Two pale blue-skinned children, both the same height, and quite young, ran on the sand. A taller figure followed them.

The small ones ran in circles on the beach, as the older one kicked off her shoes and dived into the lake.

“Well, I guess that answers our question about swimming. If the locals do it…” Uhura said.

Spock nodded his agreement.

Uhura was already imagining the warm water. The children dashed about and she wished there was sound so she could hear their voices. They ran, splashed, and jumped, the smaller children also in the water now. There was something joyful about their play, adult-less and free; she could imagine their squeals of delight.   

The next time she looked, the older girl stood stock still on the shore. One of the smaller children seemed to be screaming. Where was the other?

“Spock—”

“Yes, I see,” he said, zooming in further on the scene.

Uhura’s heart leapt. The child thrashed in the water, then disappeared, surfaced for a moment, then disappeared again.

The older girl didn’t move. Why didn’t she help?

The smaller child surfaced for an instant.

Uhura looked at Spock. If they acted, if they did anything to help, they would give their position away. What would he do?

He didn’t hesitate. He leapt from the shuttle and tore along the shore, much faster than she could run. By the time she reached the two children on the beach, he’d kicked off his boots, flung down his belt and phaser, and dived in the water.

Uhura stood, panting, clutching the medical tricorder she’d grabbed before following him. Up close to the children, she could see the youngest child was a boy. He clung to the older girl, his sister Uhura thought, as their lean faces were so alike, their hair the same white.

“What happened?” she asked them.

The boy wailed and didn’t look up. The girl looked at Uhura, shook her head, mute.

For a long moment the lake was still, the only sound was the boys gulping sobs beside her. Uhura held her breath. Where were they?

Then Spock exploded to the surface, boy in his arms, and then he was taking fast strokes backwards, then wading through the shallows and stumbling to the sand, gasping. The boy, his blue skin much paler than his twin—for Uhura could see now they were reflections of one another, lay unmoving on the sand, his feet tangled with dark green weeds.

Uhura put her ear to his lips. No breath. She flicked the tricorder to emergency exo-medicine. A body image showed her where his heart was, a little lower than in a human. She straightened her arms, placed one hand atop the other, and pressed. How many compressions for his species? She didn’t know, she just kept pressing until she reached thirty.

Nothing. She was aware of the girl now, scrabbling at her brother’s feet, pulling the weeds away, sobbing, and then shouting at the younger boy, run, get Papa, hurry.

Uhura continued. This little boy couldn’t die. Not on this perfect white beach, under a sky so blue.

She started chest compressions again.

Thirty, pause. Nothing.

Spock pinched the boy’s nose, breathed into his mouth, and they went on, pumping, breathing, pumping.

Suddenly the boy convulsed. He coughed, ejected water from his mouth and nose, and then he was gasping, spluttering, wheezing, but alive, so very alive. Uhura sat back on her heels and let out a long shuddering breath.

The girl’s sobs continued, choked now, as she took his hand, repeated his name, _Tam,_ _Tam,_ over and over, tears running down her face.

Spock picked up the tricorder and scanned the child.

Then there was someone else on the beach. In a blur of blue skin, a man launched himself at Spock, flinging him to the sand. “Get away!” he roared.

“Papa!” the girl yelled, “They saved him. They brought him back!”  

Tam’s father scrambled to his feet. He wore simple leather shoes, a loin-cloth and a knife in a sheath at his side.

“Take Tam home,” _Papa_ told the girl. He turned to the other boy. “Take Lao, too.”

The girl sniffed, scooped up the boy from the sand, grasped the other little boy’s hand, and hurried away.

Uhura scrabbled around to Spock.

Tam’s father paused, looked at Uhura and Spock, glanced up the beach towards the shuttle, and then back to them. “Off-worlders?” his hand hovered over his knife as he spoke.

Uhura nodded. “We mean no harm. We’re stranded. We just wanted to help.”

The man stood impassively. “I must tend to my family. I will return.” With that, he strode from the beach.

Uhura watched him go. “I hope that means he’s coming back to thank us, not cut us into little bits.”

“It is logical that he must tend to the welfare of his family, and then discover the course of events for himself.”

Uhura nodded, not quite at ease. What if they did come back, having decided intruders, even ones who save drowning children, were not welcome?

She looked at Spock, bare chested still, trousers soaked, and the dressing on his back missing now. He had been so clear about not giving their position away earlier. Just when his logic seemed watertight, he surprised her by doing something like this.

“You…you were…amazing,” she said. “I thought—”

He turned his head to one side. “I judged preservation of the child’s life of greater importance than our need for concealment.”

“You cared.”

“Vulcans are commonly misunderstood. It is not that we lack emotion. We contain our emotional states and choose not to be primarily driven by them. There is a difference. In order to contain and control intense emotional states, one must be aware of them, and the reactions that accompany them. The path to logic is paved with awareness of emotion, not ignorance.”

“You feel things, and then repress them?”

“I monitor and control my visceral and emotional reactions and then I choose how to act, based on logic.” He stood up, and offered her a hand.

She got to her feet, but held onto his hand as she stood, bringing their joined hands up together in front of them.

“Then if I suggest holding hands while we walk back to the shuttle craft, would that be logical?”

“I have learned many things during my time serving with humans. One of them is that there are times when doing something appears to have no logical, tangible benefits. But I may choose to do it anyway.”

He laced his fingers through hers. His hand may have been cool to the touch, but it warmed her heart. Something about the simple act of holding hands symbolised they belonged together, unified. But it was much more than that. It meant he was willing to do something simply because it made her happy, even if he could see no benefit. Making her happy was an end to itself, and she knew in her heart that despite his reserve, touching her didn’t make him unhappy.

They gathered their belongings and walked back to the shuttle, hand in hand along the lakeside in the late afternoon sun.     

#

Before nightfall, they both washed quickly in the lake, one standing guard with a drawn phaser while the other got clean. Back in the shuttle, Uhura checked for a reply from the Enterprise multiple times, and every time she was met with silence her heart sank a little lower.

“We will need to move out of the shuttle before the shields fail and we become visible to aerial recognisance,” Spock said.

The _Galileo_ had hardly been luxurious over the last couple of days, but it had to be infinitely more comfortable than what would come next. They would need to pack food, water and what equipment they could, and go where? To the mountains? They had to get away from Dartan’s men. She bit her lip, her stomach turning over as she recalled the leering voices over the radio and their vile insinuations.

“Can you pinpoint where the phasic disturbance is weakest?” she asked Spock as they settled down to eat.

He picked up the device he’d taken into the forest, and re-checked the readings. “It seems to weaken with altitude, but I have no precise co-ordinates.”

“We have to get away from here. We should go tomorrow.” Her nerves were jangling and she knew she must look agitated.

“It would be logical to spend as much time as possible here, while the shields last.”

“Dartan is determined to find us.” She swallowed hard and bit her lip. The message rang in her ears again now, the voices cruel and cracking with laughter.

“ _Dartan wants the woman alive. Off the books. Take your time bringing her back, if you know what I mean.”_

She knew she should tell Spock what she’d heard. Did she perhaps misunderstand? She wanted to think she had, but in the pit of her stomach she knew the toxic truth; if she was captured they would abuse her in the worst possible way.

She did want to tell him, yet she couldn’t find the words to explain. They had skirted around the topic of sex so far, with euphemisms and raised eyebrows and shy smiles.  Somehow come to this agreement that physical love could wait. She didn’t want _this_ to be their first proper conversation on the subject. It was all so confusing, anyway. If he wanted to be with her, wouldn’t he want to be with her in every way? She’d told him she understood, and it didn’t matter, but of course that was a lie; she was a woman, not a robot. The whole thing was giving her a headache.

In the end, she said a little abruptly, “He’s told his men we stole the crystals. Given them orders to shoot you on sight.”

“Only me?”

She nodded, her eyes twitching in their sockets with weariness and fear and whole lot of other emotions she couldn’t sort through. “Us. Shoot us on sight.”

Spocks eyes narrowed, his jaw set. “I will not permit him to harm you.”

“I know, I know, we just have to keep ahead of him.” She jumped up, nerves raw with the lie, and went to the still-open inspection hatch under the coms panel to turn this conversation in a direction she felt better equipped to deal with.

“I think I can rig a portable transmitter, so we can boost a signal past the disturbance once we get high enough. Send a message to the _Enterprise._ In case no one picks up the hidden code.”

Then she paced back along the small deck. “I should look at your back. We’ll have to pack medical supplies.” She ran her hands through her hair distractedly. “Do we have enough drinking water to take? Containers? Backpacks?”

He sat, and she could feel his eyes on her as she paced. Her shoulders ached, her neck was tight and she felt like a walking bundle of stress and tension. She sighed, and waved a hand toward the blankets on the floor. “At least it will be more comfortable to sleep tonight. And you can lay down too. You must be exhausted. Are you tired, Spock?”

He stared at her steadily. “Nyota—”

She was all too aware she was talking too fast, and mostly rubbish. “I’m rambling, aren’t I? I need to stop.” She put her hand over her mouth and stood awkwardly in the middle of the floor.

“Nyota, please, sit down and tell me what is troubling you.”

“It’s nothing. Just, we need to think about getting away. Let me check your back.”

“Very well.” She sat behind him, and ran the tricorder over the area. “That’s actually a lot better. You don’t need another dressing. How does it feel?”

“Much improved. You, however, are full of tension. You have rubbed your neck several times today. Are you injured?”

“No. It’s just stiff, from sleeping on those chairs, and sitting, and well, probably everything that’s happened since we left M’basi. Nothing a hot bath wouldn’t fix.”

“I cannot arrange a hot bath, but Vulcan Shi-anz-Zo has several techniques to alleviate stiff musculature.”   

“Are you offering to rub my shoulders?” she said, wondering where this was leading.

He raised an eyebrow. “I was not suggesting anything inappropriate merely—”

“I trust you,” she said. If there was any man in the galaxy she could trust, it was him. And ironically, here he was, the only man in the galaxy she wanted to let her guard down with. But besides that, her neck really was _very_ stiff.  

“I’d really appreciate some Vulcan She-zanzo, to loosen my neck,” she said, more gently this time.

“ _Shi-anz-Zo_ ,” he corrected. “Sit crossed legged.”

She did as he asked, and pulled her ponytail over her shoulder out of the way. He settled himself behind her and placed his hands lightly on her shoulders.

When he pressed his thumbs gently into her neck at the point where her muscles felt tight as a drum, she let out a breath.

“Your scapulae are extremely tense.”

“I know.” She gasped, with pleasure just nudging the edge of pain, as he probed and pressed small circles in her shoulders, loosening the knotted muscles. His fingers moved upwards, onto her flesh, probing her neck muscles. His long fingers were deliciously cool against her skin. She suppressed a moan.

“Am I causing you discomfort?”

“No. No, don’t stop.”

He continued back down her neck, working the muscles around the vertebra in her upper spine, and then moved up onto her shoulders. Finding a knot of muscles wound tight just beneath her shoulder blades, he meticulously worked his thumbs in circles until her muscles relaxed. He was, she decided, quite skilled with his hands. He could use those hands on her any time he liked. She halted that train of thought, very aware it could take her places he wasn’t ready to go. She reminded herself of her resolve to be patient and to let him lead.  

“Has the tension reduced?” he asked after a while.

She reached up over her own shoulder and took his hand. “Thank you, Spock, that feels much better.”

She turned to face him. He looked weary; his eyes were heavy lidded and his expression unreadable. He really was the most unfathomable man. She sighed quietly and shook her head gently, realising she was very drowsy and he must be even more so. Perhaps things would feel clearer after they both got some sleep.

“You must be exhausted,” she said softly. “Three days now since you’ve slept properly. The beast in the forest, saving the boy. I’m surprised you’re even awake.”

“I do not have the same biological requirements for sleep as a human. Nonetheless,” he conceded, “I am in a state of physical depletion.”

“Then let’s get some sleep,” she suggested.

“That would be logical,” he said, pausing just long enough to let her wonder if he was going to kiss her, but he did not.  

Later, as they lay side by side in the dim light, he took her hand. “I am grateful,” he said.

“For what?”

“For you,” he replied, his voice already soft with sleep.

She smiled in the darkness, and despite the discomfort of sleeping on a floor covered only by a thin blanket, and despite the fears about what they would face next, and all her frustrations with this most perplexing of men, despite everything, when she laced her fingers through his she felt a warm glow of contentment in her chest. No matter what happened they would face it together. He was worth waiting for. _They_ were worth waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a long chapter (mostly) written already for next week.  
> If anyone wants an early viewing and is prepared to beta read, then get in touch.


	7. Made of Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and Nyota have further dealings with the family whose son they saved, and are forced to confront some truths about their relationship.

When Uhura woke Spock was already preparing a simple breakfast.

He glanced over towards her. “How is your neck this morning?”

She rolled her shoulders and sat up. Her neck ached like hell, but she wasn’t about to let him know the massage hadn’t helped much. “It’s okay. A bit better. And your back?”

“Improved,” he said, still moving stiffly.

Watching him, she had distinct feeling his answer wasn’t any more honest than hers had been.

After they had eaten Spock passed her a phaser. “It would be wise to be more cautious from this point forward,” he said.

As she strapped the phaser onto her belt, the thought of Dartan searching for them curled a cold fist around her stomach. The perfect white beach outside the shuttle seemed a much less friendly place than it had been yesterday, and suddenly she found herself wanting to tell Spock about Dartan's vile threats. But once again she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“We need to conserve power,” he was saying, “and focus our efforts on creating a portable communication device that will enable us to contact the _Enterprise_ when we reach a high enough altitude.”

“I suppose there’s no chance of this thing taking off to get us up the mountain? We could stay in the planet’s atmosphere…”

Spock raised an eyebrow, stopping her midsentence.

“I thought not.” She hadn’t really thought it would work, as the damage was obvious: hull breached, power failing. This little oasis, such as it was, wouldn’t be a safe haven much longer.

“We need to make sure the camouflage didn’t blow off during the night,” she said, shuddering at the possibility of Dartan’s craft spotting them from overhead.

They opened the shuttle’s hatch and then immediately stopped dead in their tracks.

A dozen blue-skinned men and women surrounded the craft. Spock immediately went for his phaser, but Uhura stayed his hand.

She looked closer at the group, squinting against the early morning sun, and recognised faces from yesterday: Tam’s father, the adolescent girl. Their expressions seemed solemn, but not angry or afraid. A small boy stood among them. Who would bring a child to a raiding party?

At a gentle shove from his father the boy stepped forward. It was Tam, his wiry, small body covered now, like the adults, in simple clothing. He held a knife as long as his forearm in his hand. He walked towards them and then stopped uncertainly, turning back to his father, who waved him on with a swish of his forefinger.

Tam looked between Uhura and Spock. He took a hesitant step towards her. The big knife seemed at odds with his little hand. He held it reverently, as if it were something special he did not get to handle often. With two fingers he touched the hilt, then brought those same fingers first to his forehead, then his lips, and finally to his heart. Then he turned the handle towards Uhura.

Uhura squatted down to Tam’s level. The boy’s eyes were of the palest blue, his hair whiter than the sand, fine, silky, blowing in the gentle breeze. She repeated the actions he’d made, two fingers on the knife’s hilt, and then brought her hand to her forehead, lips and heart.

A smile flicked across his face. After another quick glance back at his father, he presented his knife to Spock with the same solemn air.

Spock knelt right down in the sand at Tam’s level, and then followed the boy’s lead: hilt, heart, lips, and forehead. Tam smiled shyly and then, letting the knife clatter to the ground, he put his arms around Spock’s neck and hugged him. Spock stiffened at the unexpected contact, and then glanced up at Uhura, raising an eyebrow. She laughed out loud. Suddenly the people all around were talking and milling about and more children seemed to appear from nowhere.

A woman, as tall as Tam’s father, approached Uhura. She wore a colourful headdress of woven strips of fabric, decorated with tiny shells and small gems sparkling in the sunlight, and a flowing, many-coloured dress.

“I am in your debt. My family is in your debt,” she said.

“You are Tam’s mother?” Uhura said.

“Yes. My name is Fetia.”

“I am Uhura.”

Fetia looked at the shuttlecraft. “You are off-worlders?” She waved her hand at the twigs and leaves covering the craft. “This is a very bad disguise!”

Uhura laughed. She wondered how technologically advanced these people were. She knew better than to assume that their simplistic form of dress meant they must be uneducated, or that they lacked technology. She also understood to take care not to give away too much of their own situation.

“We were in M’basi. We had a few problems there.”

“You are stranded?” Fetia said.

“Yes. We need to get a message off-world. To our ship.”

“Ah, this will be difficult. Our world is out of step with our neighbours. A blessing and a curse.”

“How so?”

“We are not troubled by uninvited guests, but opportunities for trade and technological advancement have been limited. As the disturbance has worsened, so we become more cut off from the galaxy.”

“We have a theory about that,” Uhura said, glancing at Spock, who was talking with Tam’s father.

The children began to run around excitedly, ducking behind the trees propped against the side of the shuttle, and with a squeals of delight, Tam and Lao—they were impossible to tell apart— jumped inside the shuttle.

El, the girl from the beach, shot an indecipherable glance at her mother and dashed inside the shuttle after him. “Tam, Lao, out!” she snapped.

“It’s alright, really,” Uhura said.

Fetia’s forehead wrinkled, her blue skin becoming taut around her mouth. “My daughter has barely spoken since yesterday. We do not blame her, of course, for Tam’s accident, but I fear she is too hard on herself.”

“I know we’ve only just met, but I was there on the beach, I saw what happened. Would it help if I spoke to her?”

Fetia inclined her head. “Then my debt to you would deepen.”

Uhura went inside. One of the twins had crawled under the blankets of the makeshift bed, and the other was nowhere to be seen, although the only place he could possibly be in the cramped shuttle was inside the washroom.

“Come out!” El’s face was contorted, close to tears.

“My name is Uhura.” Uhura said, soothingly. She used her two fingers to make the signs from earlier, heart, lips, forehead, but she held her head on one side as she did so, to signal her uncertainty. “Is that right?”

El nodded, eyes towards the deck, but then she looked up, and rather shyly Uhura thought, tapped her head, lips and heart. “I think, I say, I feel,” she said as she completed the movements.

The twin under the blanket popped out his head. “You can’t find me,” he called, and then disappeared again.

“You are supposed to be finding _me_!” another, rather indignant little voice came from the washroom.

“They’re a real handful,” Uhura said, playfully tugging at the blanket. “Who is this?”

“I’m Tam!” The small boy grinned.

El scolded him. “You are not!”

Another face appeared briefly from the bathroom door. “Yes he is!” he chirped, before disappearing again.

El shook her head, and grabbed the wiggling blanket. “This is Lao,” she said firmly. “I might not be brave, but I do know my brothers apart.”

“Your mother doesn’t blame you, she told me,” Uhura said.

“She says that to be kind. If you had not come. . .” Tears welled in El’s eyes.

“But we did come. Accidents happen. It wasn’t your fault.”

“My feet were stone. I was so afraid,” she said, the blue in her cheeks deepening.

Uhura nodded, carefully, considering her words. “It’s okay to be afraid. I get scared all the time.”

“You do?” El said in surprise.

“Of course. Over the last few days I’ve been more afraid than I have been for a long time. I’m still afraid now.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Oh, everything!” A confusion of emotions tangled in Uhura’s chest. Fear that they wouldn’t get a message out to the _Enterprise;_ fear that Dartan would make good on his threats to kill Spock and hurt her. Fear that the relationship between her and Spock would prove too difficult to unravel and they would never get the chance to be all they could be together.

El watched with expectant eyes, but Uhura couldn’t expect a girl of El’s age, to understand all that.

“How old are you?”

“Twelve summers.”

“El, no one is born brave. We learn courage as we live and grow. I’m afraid because we’ve got enemies here. And we can’t contact our friends.”

“Mother and father can help. Papa is probably arranging it with your husband now.”

“Oh, he’s not—”

El wasn’t listening. She went to the bathroom door and opened it. “Out, Tam,” she commanded. He darted out and jumped on the lump under the blankets that was his brother, and more yelps erupted.  

El looked into the washroom. “Your little home is neat,” she said, poking the shower head with her fingers.

“Yes, shame that’s not working. We’re low on power. I’d give quite a lot for a shower right now.”

“Then I will make sure there is plenty of hot water when you come.”

“Come where?”

“You are Shakra-mon-sha. Blood of our blood—”

“My daughter is correct.”

Uhura turned to see Tam’s father and Spock enter the shuttle.

“I believe Kehoe may be able to assist us in establishing the best location to make contact with the _Enterprise_ ,” Spock said. “They have invited us to their home this evening.”

“We gratefully accept.” Uhura lowered her head in a respectful bow.

Tam and Lao, who had been wrestling on the blankets, had stopped fighting when their father and Spock entered.

Tam stared at Spock, as if hypnotised.

To Uhura’s surprise, Spock approached the boy and crouched down in front of him. “You are fully recovered?”

Tam nodded. “Papa put the bad weeds that grabbed my legs to dry in the smoke house. He says it will remind us to be grateful every day you pulled me from the water.”

“Your papa is wise,” Spock said.

Uhura watched him with the child and felt something pull at her heart, revealing as it did, unexpectedly, another layer to this Vulcan. His attentiveness, his concern for the boy touched her deeply. She found herself wondering what kind of father he would make.      

Lao, sensing he was missing out on something, pushed himself forward and said, “Next time, it’s _my_ turn to be rescued.”

“Ah, but you had the most important job of all. You ran to bring your father to the beach,” Spock said.

“I did run very fast.” Lao’s little face beamed.

“Precisely,” Spock agreed. He found himself engulfed in four blue arms as the children hugged him, and Uhura could have sworn, for a moment, that something close to a smile flashed across his face.

The family gathered their children, and then with a promise to come back later in the day to guide Spock and Uhura to the settlement for the evening’s celebrations, they made their farewells.   

#

Spock and Uhura spent the day constructing a portable communications array.

“Kehoe has access to topological data that will enable us to plan the best route to reach a high enough altitude to make contact with the _Enterprise._ ”  

“Yes, they also mentioned food,” Uhura said. Starfleet ration packs undoubtedly contained adequate nutrition, but they were rather dull. And spending some more time with the children was appealing too. “Tam and Lao seemed rather fond of you.”

“Unaccountably so,” Spock said.

“You like them.” It was a statement, not an accusation, exactly, but she’d never seen him with children before. His reaction to them had taken her by surprise.

“Do you believe that I dislike children?”

“No, I just…I didn’t expect…”

He looked at her for a long moment, and turned his face away, his expression unreadable. “I will gather the equipment I wish to show to Kehoe,” he said quietly. With that, he took a backpack from the storage locker at the rear of the craft and began to carefully pack it with the equipment he’d laid out on the blankets.

Uhura stared at him for a long time after he turned away. There was something he wasn’t telling her, something he couldn’t quite find words to express. They were both tongue-tied she realised, both holding back things they should say to one another. How much longer could they go on like that?

#

The sun was low over the lake when Kehoe and El returned. El wore a long flowing dress much like her mother’s, with many-coloured swirls, bear arms, the dress tucked neatly at the waist. Her hair was braided now, with strips of multi-coloured fabric woven through the braids.

“You look very pretty,” Uhura said. She ran her hand through her own hair, trying to pull out the tangle she found snagged there. She’d still not found a hair brush.

El smiled. “Mother has set aside some things for you, if you wish for them.”

“She has?”

“You are Shakra-mon-sha, tonight we honour you.”

Uhura stowed the coms array she’d built in a backpack, eager to leave. If being _Shakra-mon-sha_ brought with it any possibility of getting cleaned up and out of the clothes she’d lived and slept in for the past few days, then she couldn’t get there fast enough.

#

Spock secured the shuttle followed Kehoe and El into the woods along the path he had taken the previous day. She and Uhura were chatting amiably and the girl laughed at something Uhura said. Relating seemed to come so naturally to her. He wondered again at her comments about Tam and Lao, and the implicit assumption her words revealed: her belief that he did not like children. Did she think that Vulcans cared less for their offspring than humans did? Just because one does not react emotionally, does not mean one lacks compassion, or that Vulcan children are uncared for. This train of thought brought him back once again to his old battleground. If he chose Uhura, any children they conceived together would be only quarter Vulcan. While no edicts had been issued regarding choosing a mate, he wondered if the remaining Vulcan High Council would disapprove. What would his father say? Surely his father, of all people, would understand? _I could do no other_.

Spock pushed these thoughts from his mind and followed Kehoe and El with his phaser drawn.

“You don’t need to worry, the fanthra hunt between dusk and dawn,” El said, glancing back at his weapon.

“Nevertheless, it is logical to remain vigilant.”

“Indeed,” Kehoe said.

El laughed. “It’s the euphorbia you need to watch out for.” She pointed at a patch green and yellow fleshy leaves. “Those ones are quite small, but they can grow much bigger.”

“Why are they dangerous?” Uhura asked.

“They squirt sap. Get that in your eyes and you’ll be blind in a couple of hours. Don’t worry,” she said, noticing Uhura’s concerned expression, “those little ones are not too bad. Just don’t step on them.”

Uhura used the rest of the trip to ask El lots of questions about their village, their culture, the surrounding area. She was a skilled communicator, of that there was no doubt in Spock’s mind.

The forest thinned and they arrived at a high fence snaking away into the forest as far as the eye could see. As they went further, Spock could see scattered outbuildings, and animal pens, and arable equipment. Clearly these people were less technologically advanced than the people of M’basi, but it wasn’t just the materials used to build the homes—wood and roughly cast bricks here, rather than perfectly pressed, uniform concrete bricks—but the style of building that were different. Homes in M’basi were small, each held a family unit of two parents and two children. Here, the homes seemed to sprawl ever outwards, with different patterns of brick where more rooms had been added. Spock had overheard El explain how large family units, across two and three generations, lived together. When El bonded, she told Uhura, they could choose to live with her mate’s family or her own.

“Wouldn’t you like to have your own home?” Uhura asked.

“What, all alone? Why would I want that?”

“To be independent, live your own life?”

El squinted at Uhura then, as if she had said something very silly indeed.

“Of course I will live my own life. Who else is going to live it for me? I will live my life with my family around me.”

When they reached Kehoe’s home, Tam and Lao were waiting in the garden.

“They wanted to come with too, but Papa said no,” El explained.

“We helped build the fire,” they said, excitedly. One grabbed each of Spock’s hands, and began to pull him towards the huge pile of wood at the very end of the long garden. “Look, we put the—”

“Boys, don’t bother Mr Spock,” Kehoe said.

“I do not mind.”

El turned to Uhura. “Would you like to come with me? I’ve something to show you, too.”

#

As El guided Uhura through the house, each person she passed—and she lost count and would have a hard time remembering names—greeted her with the three point gesture; two fingers on the forehead, lips, and then mouth.

El explained, “It’s a symbol of openness and honesty. It reminds us to strive to maintain correct balance between what we think, say and feel.”

“That sounds difficult.”

“It is, sometimes.” El had taken her down a long passageway, up a set of spiral stairs and into an attic room. The late afternoon sun shone through the window, scattering gold light across the room. The bed was larger and more luxurious than anything Uhura had seen in a long time. Covered in a deep purple throw, with pillows puffed up by the headboard, the bed looked a million times more comfortable than sleeping on a blanket on the floor in the shuttle.

“We can stay here tonight?” Uhura asked, hoping the answer would be yes.

“If you wish. And there’s more.” El grinned.

Bemused, Uhura followed her into an adjoining room. A huge white bath with silver, gleaming taps sat in the centre of the floor.  

“Thank you!” Uhura said, with heartfelt gratitude. A dress, very like El’s, hung over the back of the chair next to the bath.

“I’ll leave you to get ready. Mother prepared a feast for the family, but word soon spread. Everyone wants to meet off-worlders who bring boys back from the dead.”

When El left, Uhura began to run the bath and then picked up the dress. It was made of fine cotton, soft to the touch. The colours were vivid blues and greens printed in swirls over the fabric. Holding it in her hands, enjoying the feeling of the soft fabric under her fingers, she glanced out of the window.

The garden stretched out for several hundred meters; there was no shortage of space here. A high fence ran all the way around the garden.

Spock and the children were still in the garden, and Spock—logical, collected, reserved Spock—chased them briskly around the lawn, dodging behind the fire pile, then bursting out and making them run. If she opened the window, she felt sure she would hear squeals of laughter. She clutched the dress in her hands. Would he ever stop surprising her?

He looked up and saw her standing at the small window. He raised a hand. She clutched the dress to her heart, feeling the fabric cool in her fingers. She raised her other hand to wave at him.

If they were stranded, if they couldn’t get past the phasic disturbance and were forced to spend their lives here, would that really be the worst thing that could happen? She shook her head, tried not to think about that, because they had a good plan, and she wasn’t ready to give up, not by a long way. But the thought hung loosely in the back of her mind as she undressed, and returned later as she sunk under the bubbles in the delicately scented water. Being stranded here with him, she decided, wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen to her at all.

#

He must have come into the bedroom while she was drying her hair, because when she turned off the hairdryer she heard him moving around the room. She slipped the dress on, which was a surprisingly good fit, although very much not what she was used to. About as far from Starfleet regulation uniform as you could get; bear arms, a low V neck embroidered with gold detail, and a full-length flowing skirt tucked at the waist. It had been a long time since she’d worn anything like it, and Spock had certainly never seen her wearing such a dress. Not that he would notice, probably, but she felt good wearing it all the same.

When she emerged from the bathroom, he lay on the bed, eyes closed, hands linked over his chest. She padded over barefoot, paused, indecision grasping her, and when he didn’t move she slipped onto the bed beside him. Was he asleep or deep in meditation? She propped herself up on her elbow and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest and his calm, expressionless face.

Then an eye flicked open and he turned his head towards her. “The hospitality here is generous. They say they consider us members of the extended family now.”

“Oh,” she gasped, a bit embarrassed he’d caught her staring.

“Are the facilities to your liking?”

“Yes. Lovely. Perfect,” she gabbled.

“I will bathe also. Kehoe has provided me with clean clothes.” He nodded at a white shirt and pair of brown trousers on a chair beside the bed, and then he swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up.

As the bathroom door closed, Uhura flopped heavily back onto the bed, covering her hands with her face. She groaned aloud with sheer, embarrassed frustration. She was never going to survive this.

#

El had been right; the whole village did want to meet Tam’s rescuers. The spacious garden filled with willowy, blue-skinned people, who seemed to arrive in large family groups, carrying food. Fetia graciously greeted each group, although Uhura noted the three-pronged greeting was only passed between the elder members, and none outside Fetia and Kehoe’s extended family offered her or Spock the greeting. Instead, they bowed when Fetia introduced them as Shakra-mon-sha, _blood of our blood._ Uhura supposed it meant, in human terms, they were family now.

Food and drink piled high on wooden tables, and as the sun lowered candles were lit all around. Children ran along the edges of the gardens, dodging in and out of the trees by the wall, squealing and laughing. The twins laughed loudest of all, one of them being a celebrity for the night, although Uhura still couldn’t tell them apart.

The dusk air was warm, and as darkness fell music began from somewhere. Spock was talking to Kehoe, and another man—presumably his brother. They were pouring over a handheld data screen that seemed to contain maps.

“Fetia, El told me you organise the trade with M’basi?” Uhura asked the tall woman, when they found themselves alone together.

“Hmm, yes. We trade, we do not exchange pleasantries. They call us, ‘The slow ones.’ This is not a compliment.”

“Ah, I see. I need something to use as a quasi audio-processor, to boost the power of my signal. Does anyone here work with communication devices, radio, or audio-visual equipment?”

Fetia thought for a moment. “Yes, I’ll introduce you to Helios and Kelsey. They sell and repair most of the equipment we use here.”

Fetia took Uhura to meet two women, who stood by the food tables, holding hands.  One was stocky by the standards of most of the other people they had met so far, but with the broadest smile Uhura had seen in a long time. Her eyes sparkled, and it seemed she found everything a source of great joy. The other was taller and wore a dress that might have been cut from the same cloth as the dress Uhura had borrowed from Fetia.

Uhura explained what she needed. The women looked at one another. “A modulating processor, you think?” Helios said to Kelsey.

Kesley nodded. “I brought a batch back last month.”

“Could you spare one? I’m afraid I have no credits—”

“Credits!” the Helios boomed. “My dear, do you think we would take a single credit from you, the woman who breathes life into lost boys?”

Uhura blushed, in strange a mix of shyness and gratitude at the warmth of these people.

Fetia gathered some glasses left on the grass, and then pointed towards the woodpile. “Soon we will make the great fire for you.”

“Really, there’s no need—”

Fetia glanced over at the children and then across at Spock. “When your husband pulled Tam from the water, and then you brought him back to life, you gave us the greatest gift. We celebrate with a fire.”

Uhura tugged on her ponytail, but didn’t correct Fetia’s assumption that they were married. It was too complicated to explain, and anyway, there was something nice about believing it, even if it was only for tonight.

#

Spock found himself watching Uhura as she spoke to Kehoe’s wife. The dress she wore was pleasing to look at and he found his eyes returning to her over and over again. He noticed details,the cut of the dress, her skin, much more skin exposed by this dress than he had seen before. Occasionally she would look up at the same time he did, and then she would smile, and that would send a burst of something rushing through his veins that spiked his pulse. He could analyse his physiological responses, for he was not a fool, he knew the biological indicators of attraction. He just didn’t know what he was supposed to do about it. Logic was no help to him here.   

When it was fully dark, and the moon had ascended above the trees, but not yet reached its zenith, the children began to cluster around Kehoe and clamour for the fire.

“Papa, you promised I could!” Tam and Lao both claimed, tugging at their father’s shirt.

“So I did,” Kehoe said, ruffling the twin’s hair in quick succession. He handed Spock the data pad. “This will help you, no?”     

“I believe it will prove invaluable,” Spock said.

Kehoe squatted down to the boy’s level. “I think we must begin. Do you have the luminia?” he asked the boys.

“Yes!” they chorused.

Kehoe scooped the twins up in his long, slender arms, and carried them awkwardly, one on each hip, towards the pile of wood at the end of the garden. “Pray your wife does not bear you twins, my friend,” he called to Spock. “They will break your back!” He laughed, in a most perplexing way, because his laughter seemed to imply the exact opposite of his words. And how would prayer influence the biological processes of conception and reduce the likelihood of multi-zygote pregnancy?

Spock realised that Uhura was at his side. “They all seem to think we’re married,” she whispered into his ear. “It might be as well not to let them know the truth.”

“Indeed. This culture appears to place high value upon family relationships.”

“Not only that, their tradition of aligning thoughts, words, and feelings means they have an unusual level of emotional directness.”

The fire flashed up in the darkness with a whoosh. The orange flames crept higher, catching the dry wood in the pile, making the twigs crackle and snap until the whole pyre was aflame.

Uhura stood beside him, taking small sips from a cup of something amber. The colours of the dress were muted in the moonlight, but the low light did nothing to dim the radiance of her smile, the way her eyes shone, or the sheen of her hair. Everything about her seemed glorious tonight. Perhaps he had been unwise to accept the beverage Kehoe had pressed on him. Perhaps it was unwise to look at her at all, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

She quirked a small smile in his direction, an uncertain smile, one that asked a question he did not know the answer to, but one he would be compelled to confront sometime. Perhaps sometime quite soon. He hovered indecisively, wanting to touch her. Her eyes demanded something of him he couldn’t ignore. Needing to do something with his hands, he grasped hers. She looked up at him and smiled broadly, making his pulse race again.

Then the children were tugging their free hands and urging them forwards until they stood in front of the fire.

Tam and Lao both held small packages wrapped in thin paper.

Kehoe began to speak, and as he did the people turned towards him and the noise in the garden dropped.

“Friends, neighbours! Yesterday, we almost lost something precious. Our Tam was almost taken. But the goddess smiled and sent two off-Worlders to bring back him. So, we give thanks!”

With that, the boys threw their packets into the fire. The flames whooshed up in vivid spurts of lime, magenta and azure, flicking skyward, crackling and popping in the darkness. The children squealed and Uhura gasped with delight, her eyes bright in the darkness, her smile broad and joyful.

He gazed down at her, her shoulders bare, skin exposed. He experienced an overwhelming desire to feel her skin under his fingers.

She looked towards him and smiled, and somehow—he never was sure how—his arm slipped around her shoulders and they kissed, a quick, sweet kiss, caught up in the joy of the moment. Her smile was even more beautiful than he had ever known and her skin just as soft as he imagined. Then suddenly the people were bowing to them and offering them more tumblers of the amber liquid that tasted a little, but not quite, like something Doctor McCoy might confiscate for medicinal reasons, and although it was probably all quite inappropriate he found he didn’t care at all.

By the end of the evening, when the children were long in bed and the garden thinned to the last few guests, El and Fetia approached them.

“It is very late. You will stay with us tonight?” Fetia said.

El took Uhura by the hand. “Do come,” she said, tugging her towards the stairs.

Uhura glanced at Spock.

“It would be unwise to traverse the forest at night. Therefore it is logical to accept your offer.”

Fetia inclined her head. “We are honoured, Shakra-mon-sha.”

El guided them to their room and then quickly withdrew.

Spock immediately shut himself in the bathroom. This was going to test his composure to its utmost. How could he be expected to maintain his equilibrium with her so close? Looking like that? He paced the length of the bathroom. Still, he was a son of Vulcan, and a Starfleet officer, not a hormone-fuelled adolescent human, unable to contain his desires. He could choose to behave appropriately. Straightening his shoulders he emerged from the bathroom, searching for her in the dim light of the bedroom. She had changed into a white cotton shift, the thin fabric almost translucent in the moonlight, and was brushing her hair out with long, fluid strokes in front of the mirror. He found himself rooted to the spot at her shoulder, staring, and when she looked up into the mirror, their eyes met.

“It was not my intention to invade your privacy.” He forced himself to take a quick step back, putting a safe distance between them, because his mind was now running amok. His thoughts were unashamedly leaping and bounding through various scenarios, lurid fantasies of removing the flimsy fabric clinging to her body and pushing her beneath him onto the bed.

“You can invade my privacy any time you like,” she blurted out, and then immediately bit her lip.

He examined her closely: the tinge to her cheeks and her shy smile made her even more alluring to his fevered mind. “You are blushing,” he observed, heat flashing to his own face as he spoke.

She looked up at him as he took a step closer. “So are you.”

He was indeed hot and flushed at the sight of her, at the thought of her body, so clearly nude beneath the gown. He was flushed at the implication of her statement, the clear message that she knew he was aroused.

She sighed quietly, as if resigned, perhaps imagining she knew what was in his heart and mind at this moment. “All I meant was... I’m in love with you. And I have been for a very long time, you know that. I just want you to know that if you’re ready, I’m ready. That’s all.” She gave a small shrug, and then turned away to give him space, to patiently keep that distance he’d proscribed, to keep her part of this bargain, a bargain he was finding harder to keep with every passing moment.

Before she could move further away from him, his hand, almost of its own accord, and certainly not under his conscious control, reached out and touched her face, slowly, brushing his fingers across her cheek. He closed his eyes for a brief moment. How much longer could he exist in this painful impasse, wrenched between duty and desire? How much longer could he put her through this, flitting on the edge of becoming more than they were? She had waited so long, with kindness and patience, just how much longer could he ask her to keep waiting?

“I do not deserve you,” he said, his shoulders slumping slightly.

“Oh, Spock, I’m exactly what you deserve.”

“Do not think that because I have delayed intimacy, I do not desire you.” His hands found the thin fabric at her waist and he bunched the cotton between his fingers. “If anything, I desire you too much.”

“You won’t break me, Spock,” she whispered, turning her face up to him. “I’m not made of glass.”

He took a shuddering breath. If he kissed her, he would be lost and he knew it. There would be no turning back, no way to pretend he didn’t want her in every way it was possible for a man to want a woman. And right now, he needed her as much as he needed air to breathe.

And then, without making a conscious choice at all he was kissing her. He buried  his hands in her hair and his heart in her hands. She kissed him back. Her lips were so sweet and perfect against his that the kiss took his breath away. How had he ever doubted joining with her could be right?  

Stepping backwards, he drew her with him, deliberately, decisively, and then spinning around he guided them together onto the bed.

“Are you sure?” she whispered, looking up at him, her eyes wide, strikingly brown, deep, and beautiful in their honesty.

“I can do no other,” he murmured.

He didn’t hold back. He could no more hold back than he could tell the sun not to set, or stop his own heart beating. He didn’t _want_ to hold back any more.

She sighed in his arms, a small sound, delicate, drawing him in and erasing the gulf between them.

She became his whole world, falling apart in his arms, holding him so sweetly, and he wondered, dimly, what had taken him so long. He felt like a man who had lived in darkness his whole life finally seeing the sun. Then the stars were exploding around him, pulsing light, bursting with energy and she became the only thing that mattered in the whole universe.

#

Later, they lay together, in a pool of moonlight shining on their bed. He took her hand tenderly and laced his fingers through hers.

“You are quite correct,” he said, his heart still thumping hard against his ribs. “You are not made of glass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter caused me some anxiety and has given me considerable pains in its development. I've tried hard to create something worthwhile, but only you guys really know if I've succeeded.   
> I'd really appreciate feedback on this one, so do please leave a comment with your thoughts!


	8. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and Uhura return to their shuttle after their romantic night at Tam's family home, however, back at the shuttle all is not as they hoped and things quickly get worse.

When Uhura woke, Spock lay beside her, awake, his face calm and expressionless. For a moment she wondered what to say. What passed between them last night had been urgent, raw, passionate, and completely beautiful. He’d amazed her with the care he’d taken to please her. In fact, he obviously knew a whole lot more about human females than he had let on.

“You were amazing last night. I didn’t know…I didn’t expect—” she started and then faltered.

“You anticipated that I would be a careless lover?”

She blushed furiously. “Spock, no, I just meant—”

He pulled her towards him. “I am teasing you, Nyota. Since we are together, now I claim the right to tease you.”

She laughed, softly. “Oh, is this the Vulcan way? Some aspect of Vulcan culture I didn’t know about?”

“Does this new way of relating please you?”

She put a hand on his chest, over his heart, and kissed him lightly on the side of his neck. Then she moved along, and kissed him again, by his ear, and then along his jaw. “It pleases me very much,” she said. She was just where she had wanted to be for the longest time. Everything felt right now.

#

Kehoe had already left for work and Fetia prepared breakfast for them. When it was time to leave, they said their goodbyes to the twins.

“We want to go with you,” the boys chorused, each of them hanging onto one of Spock’s leg. “Can’t we play in your little house again?”

“You have school,” Fetia said, sternly, although her eyes smiled.

“Where’s El?” Uhura asked, wanting to say goodbye to her.

“She has already left for school,” Fetia explained.  “Oh, Helios dropped by this morning and brought you these,” Fetia said, and passed Uhura a small clear packet of components.

Uhura examined the small cylindrical chips. They looked fairly basic, but she thought she could integrate them with the Starfleet tech. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.” She touched her heart, lips and forehead, but this time Fetia drew her into a hug.

“I hope you find your way home,” Fetia said.  “If you do not, then return to us.”

Uhura shuddered slightly. For all the friendly, grateful people here, there was some pretty scary stuff out there in the forest too, including that fanthra. And of course Dartan was hunting them. It wouldn’t do to forget _that_.

Uhura put the components into her backpack and then hefted it onto her back. Then she followed Spock out into the early morning sun.

#

They walked briskly through the forest, Spock leading the way.

“Last night, Kehoe offered to take us by boat to the base of the mountain. This will cut several days off the journey to the peak, which is called Tarn-Col. By my calculations, we will have to ascend at least four thousand feet to stand a chance of penetrating the phasic disturbance to successfully contact the _Enterprise_. We will need to take supplies from the shuttle, as conditions will deteriorate as we ascend.”

“How long do you think it will take us to get up there?”

Spock paused. “Walking, at least a day, possibly two.”

Uhura grimaced at the thought of spending a day and night exposed on a mountain. She knew she was revealing her emotional reaction with her facial expression, but she cared less about that now. Something had shifted between them. If he could reveal himself to her, show her his most vulnerable self as he had last night, then she could stop holding back too. Like she had told El, it was okay to feel afraid of frightening things.  

“When we return to the _Enterprise…”_ Spock began, and then stopped in his tracks. Uhura heard it too, with a rush of fear, a rustling in the bushes alongside them.

Phasers drawn, they waited.

Then they heard not a growl or a snarl, but a cough from behind the bush.

Uhura moved closer. El was hiding in the undergrowth.

“What are you doing? You’re supposed to be at school,” Uhura scolded, re-holstering her phaser, but she said the words with no real heat. She was actually quite pleased to see the girl again.

“Um, I thought you might need a guide.” She pointed at a patch of yellow-green quivering euphorbia. “Watch out for that.”

“Thank you, El. We know about the euphorbia. You should go to school,” Uhura said firmly.

“But—” El began.

Spock held up a hand.

Uhura realised immediately what had caught his attention. A craft buzzed overhead, and moments later a smell, the acrid tang of burning metal and plastic, drifted through the forest.

Spock drew his phaser again.

Indistinct voices rang through the trees somewhere in the distance.

“Remain here,” Spock ordered, and then disappeared into the undergrowth.

Uhura nodded, and tugged El into a squat behind a bush. She drew her own phaser, every muscle in her body taut, cursing this turn of luck. The morning had started off so _well_.

#

From a behind a scrubby bush at the edge of the forest, Spock surveyed the _Galileo’s_ blackened hull. The fire had all but burned out; smoke wafted upwards in thin, grey columns against the blue sky. The shuttle had probably been hit during the night. Had they been asleep there, they would undoubtedly be dead.

Furthermore, Dartan’s men would have scanned the wreckage and found no bodies. They were probably searching the surrounding area right now. It didn’t seem likely there would be much salvageable from the shuttle, even if it had been safe, but approaching the wreckage was an unnecessary risk. Their first priority must be to return El home safely.

A craft approached from the west, following the coast along the lakeside. Spock hurried back to where he’d left Uhura and El.

He squatted next to Uhura, and spoke in a low, urgent voice. “The shuttle has been destroyed. There is at least one aerial vehicle searching the area. We should return to—”

He paused at voices in the distance shouting indistinctly. Footsteps crashed through the forest somewhere behind them, leaving them no possibility of returning the way they had come.

El’s eyes were wide with fear. Uhura clasped her hand. “Stay close. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

“This way.” Spock led Uhura and El eastwards along the edge of the forest, keeping the lake in sight. If they could put enough distance between them and Dartan’s men, then perhaps they could double back and get El home. Her actions in following them were illogical, and placed her, and them, at greater risk.

They pressed on through the woods. At times the voices seemed to recede, but then the pursuers would pick up pace and the voices would grow louder once more.

Uhura kept El close. Spock could see the fear in the girl’s eyes and the worry in Uhura’s.

“This way!” A deep voice called out, closer now.

How many pursuers? There were at least two on foot, and the craft circling overhead. It seemed to be sweeping back and forth along the coast, as it would go out of earshot and then return several minutes later.

“Spock.” Uhura caught his arm, and hissed, “What are we going to do? We can’t let these animals near her.” She nodded at El.

He raised an eyebrow, not quite understanding what she meant. “You believe they would harm her, as well as us?”

“I’m not prepared to take the chance,” she said.

“Of course not,” he said, but still wondered at her choice of words. In any case, they needed a better plan than running blindly through the forest.

“El, how far are we from where your father keeps his boat?”

El was panting now, sweat beading on her forehead. “It’s this way. I don’t know how much further. Not far, I think.”

Uhura led on, with Spock at the rear, and El tucked safely—he hoped at least she would be safe— in between them.

They ran, as silently as they could, following the edge of the forest and the beach, where the soft sand hid the sound of their footsteps, but the trees still gave some shelter from the craft humming overhead.

El pulled Uhura’s arm. “Here, stop,” she panted. “The boats are through there.” She pointed at a series of four jetties on the riverside in a small natural harbour. A tributary ran from the forest, presumably originating from the mountain, into the lake. Several boats with small outboard engines were moored to each wooden jetty.

“Do you see them?” A voice rang out behind them.

Keeping low on the sand they crept from the forest to the closest jetty, and then crouched with their backs pressed to the rickety legs sticking out of the sand.

“What are we going to do?” El hissed.

Spock considered for a moment before speaking to Uhura. “They have not seen her. We could conceal her in one of these boats and then take another ourselves. They would follow us. She could make her way home when it was safe.”

“I don’t know,” Uhura said, “What if they find her?”

“Do you think she would be safer with us, in the open water with aerial pursuers?”

“Good point.” Uhura’s jaw tensed. She looked at El, and told her, “It’s probably safer if we hide you and draw them away. You _must_ stay hidden.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not afraid of those pale-skins.”

Uhura caught her arm. “You should be. There are times when it’s right to be afraid. It keeps you safe.”

“Which is the fastest boat?” Spock asked El.

She scanned the rows. “Probably Petrel Grier’s. He’s always showing off about it.”  

She pointed to a boat called _Bright Star_ that looked marginally sleeker than the rest, although privately Spock reasoned that the new paint work, with its name emblazoned on the side, had a little to do with the actual speed of the boat. In reality all the boats looked old and none of them particularly powerful.

El gasped. “But we don’t have keys—”

“It is alright. I can use the tricorder to activate the engine.”

He searched for a boat suitable to conceal El. The closest boat was a simple open canoe, but the one next to that was covered in a tattered green tarp, secured with rope.

Spock pointed to it. “I will loosen the covering. Are you ready? We must be swift.”

They crept along the sand as far as they could to stay out of sight, and then when they met the water’s edge Spock swung up onto the wooden jetty. He offered a hand to El while Uhura climbed up.

He quickly unfastened the tarp. From the corner of his eye he saw Uhura embrace the girl.

“Don’t come out until you are absolutely sure it’s safe. Take this.” She handed El her phaser.  “You just press this for a stun setting. It will give you a chance to get away if you need it.”

El nodded, took the phaser, and scrambled into the boat.

Spock carefully replaced the tarp. No-one would ever know it had been moved.

They hurried further down the jetty. Although he understood Uhura’s reasoning in giving her weapon to El, it left her undefended. This concerned him greatly.

“Dartan’s men have no quarrel with El or her family. Perhaps you should retain your phaser—”

“No! They’re animals. You didn’t hear them.”

“Indeed. What would I have heard?” He narrowed his eyes, suspecting she had been holding something back from him.

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I just don’t trust him.”

“Clearly it matters enough to give El your weapon.”

She sighed and suddenly seemed to find it hard to meet his eyes.

“What did they say?” he insisted.

“Dartan’s man implied. . . well he said . . . they wanted me alive, and it wasn’t to re-programme the communications network, if you know what I mean. Anyway, let’s get the hell out of here.” She started off along the jetty at a fast trot.  

Spock blinked several times. “He threatened you with sexual violence?”

“Yes. And it pretty much sounded like it would be open season, so El has to be able to defend herself.”

Spock felt his blood heat and rage curdle in his throat. “I will not permit it.”

“I know, I know. Let’s just go,” Uhura said, both impatience and fear clear in her voice.   

He used his phaser to burn the ropes holding _Bright Star’s_ cover—no time for subtlety— and they hauled it over the boat and cast it onto the jetty.

Suddenly, a voice cried out. “There they are!”

Spock leapt onto the boat’s small deck. Uhura jumped down beside him. He passed her his phaser and got the tricorder out.

An energy beam cracked over their heads.

“Duck!” Uhura commanded, and fired back into the forest over his head.

He used the tricorder to trip-start the engine into life, the propeller dipping into the water. How was he to control this vessel? A steering wheel. The vessel was basic, but—

More fire pinged past his head. The boat beside them burst into flames, rocking _Bright Star._ He fired the engine, but the boat lurched and strained against something. They were still moored!

“Cut us loose!” he yelled to Uhura.

She turned the phaser on the quivering ropes and the boat swayed. She fired wide, cursed, and tried again.

Two men on the jetty, footsteps thundering on the wooden planks, fired again.

Spock ducked as a streak of green sparks zipped past his head.

Finally, Uhura freed the boat from the mooring. He revved the engine and they pulled away.

Uhura turned her fire on the figures on the jetty. From the corner of her eye, he saw her flick her phaser on a high setting.

With deadly accuracy, she fired again. One of the men on the jetty plunged backwards into the water. Unless his compatriot pulled him out, he would surely drown.

Uhura watched the man, her eyes hard, her finger poised, ready to send the second man the way of the first if he raised his weapon.

After a moment, the man on the jetty cursed, looked down into the water and flung his weapon to the floor and dived in after his associate.

Uhura’s face cracked with relief.

Spock turned the boat sharply away from the open waters of the lake and towards the river’s mouth.

Out of nowhere, an aerial craft roared overhead. It was smaller and sleeker than their shuttlecraft, with gleaming black paintwork and a heavy gun aimed right at them.

He swung the boat hard to the left as a torpedo whipped past and crashed into the jetty. Wood and water and flames exploded high into the air, rocking the moored boats all along the Jetty. The boat where they had hidden El was far enough from the impact to avoid obliteration, but it cracked open at the bow.

“Spock, go back!”

He spun the boat hard over.

El screamed, and scrabbled to keep above the water pouring into the boat, as it tipped and rocked.

Spock brought the _Bright Star_ as close as he could to the stricken boat. Uhura reached out to El.

Dartan’s ship banked sharply and sped back.

“Throw me the phaser!” Spock roared.

As if in slow motion, Uhura sent the phaser tumbling end over end through the air towards his open hand.

He grasped it. The ship came in low, almost skimming the lake as it surged towards them. The pilot’s eyes were hidden by a mirrored visor, and a black helmet covered their head.

Spock aimed squarely at the glass, with his other hand grasping the wheel.

El screamed again as the boat lurched upwards and then plunged to the side, spilling her towards the water.

Uhura snatched her hand. “I’ve got you! Jump!” she yelled.

Spock fired.

El flung herself forward. She landed heavily, sprawling with Uhura across the deck.

Spock instantly flung the boat into reverse.

The ship approaching them had already launched another torpedo, but Spock’s aim was true: the windshield shattered, the cockpit flared red, the ship twisted and lurched in the air. It spun out of control towards them, smoke trailing behind it, engines screaming.

The women huddled together on the deck, Uhura covering El’s head with her arms.

He slammed them around so hard the _Bright Star_ almost tipped, spraying white foam high into the air and water crashing down into the boat.

The stricken ship smashed into the lake just meters away, sending a deluge of water crashing towards them. Spock tried to straighten the boat, to ride the wave rather than be hit side on, but only partially succeeded. They rolled violently. El’s screams filled his ears, and he felt his own heart rate increase as he fought to keep the boat upright.

Slowly, so slowly it seemed to take forever, they pulled away from the sinking craft.

Spock didn’t stop until they found the river’s mouth and their boat was safely off the open water. When tall reeds and thick vegetation covered the riverbanks, Spock judged it safe to bring the boat to a stop.

Uhura had helped El to her feet, and the soaked girl sat, shivering with cold, or fright, or both, on one of seats along the side of the boat. Uhura was checking the locker at the back of the boat for supplies.

“Is she injured?” Spock asked in a quiet voice.

“No, just shaken up, I think.”

“Are _you_ hurt?” he asked, looking at a small cut on her forehead.

“I’m fine,” she said, rubbing the cut. “Just a scratch.” She frowned at the blood on her fingers, and then went on, “That was some steering. I didn’t know you could pilot a boat.” She searched in the trunk as she spoke, and pulled out a first aid box and a couple of blankets.

“The principles are not dissimilar to a land-car,”

“You are full of surprises,” she said as she stood up, and then kissed him quickly on the lips before returning to El. The girl was still trembling; she had got much wetter than either he or Uhura did, as they had only been covered with spray, while she had clung to the sinking boat before Uhura pulled her free.

“What are we going to do?” El asked, as Uhura put the woven blanket around her shoulders.

Spock glanced at Uhura. “I am afraid that if we attempt to return you to your family now, we will put you—and them—at greater risk. It is therefore logical that we continue with our plan to return to our ship. We can then return you home with a full security detail.”

“What, take me up to your ship, in orbit?” El said, with her eyes wide. She’d stopped shivering. “That would be amazing!”

“It will mean climbing the mountain. And we have little equipment.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been up there before. Mama and Papa take us wild-walking each year.”

“Then you will be our guide,” Spock said.

El beamed and rolled her shoulders importantly. “We’ll have to watch out for the big patches of euphorbia.”

“Anything else dangerous up there?” Uhura asked.

“Only at night.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “What happens at night?”

“I don’t know exactly. It’s only a story. We never stay up there after dusk.”

Spock saw Uhura glance in his direction with nervousness in her eyes that she quickly concealed from El.

“Well, some of my friends call it Teht-yen, the dark man. No one has seen it in years, but it takes cattle from the lower slopes in winter, sometimes.”

“Well,” Uhura said, crisply. “We’ll steer clear of him, and if he bothers us we still have one phaser.” She tapped the weapon now tucked back in its holster at Spock side. “You sure you are up for this, though? It will mean spending the night on the mountain.”

El nodded firmly, her eyes wide. “You bet I’m ready.”

Spock and Uhura exchanged glances. They would be taking a child on a trip up a mountain, with no equipment to speak of, amid poisonous plants and a ferocious beast, pursued by a dangerous enemy. This would not be Spock's first choice. However, he could see no alternative. Uhura squeezed his hand. Her eyes signalled her confidence, her courage and her faith in him. We can do this, they seemed to say, we can do this together, you and I.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've enjoyed my story so far, please like my Facebook Page https://www.facebook.com/KateCol17/  
> where I'll post updates on this and future stories.


	9. The Dark Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock, El and Uhura travel up the mountain in order to make contact with the Enterprise. Conditions are against them and Dartan has not given up the search.  
> This chapter might nudge the T rating a little, (in a good way) I hope that's okay with everyone.

Uhura, Spock and El took the boat as far as the river allowed before it thinned and became too overgrown and shallow to navigate further. El showed them the place where her parents left their family boat when they climbed the mountain. They moored as securely as they could with the remains of the blackened rope Uhura had burned through to free the boat from the jetty.

“Is there another blanket anywhere?” Uhura asked as they quickly gathered up what little equipment they had found during a desperate rummage around the boat: a small first aid kit and an empty water bottle from a discarded packed lunch, which they could fill if they found a spring on the mountain.  Added to the one bottle she had in her backpack, which was still full, they might just manage. What worried her most was how they would keep warm through the night. It would take more than a days walking to reach the altitude Spock said they would need to gain, and it must be midday already, judging by the sun overhead.

“Try lifting the seats,” El said, tugging at the first, which didn’t budge. “Our boat has lockers—”

Spock pulled up the seat closest to him, and from the space beneath brought out a folded sheet of tarpaulin and some rope.

They made a makeshift bag from the blanket, and folded the tarp and the things that were too big to fit in her backpack inside. Uhura looked at the bundle. It wasn’t much, but the tarp would keep the worst chill off the ground if they had to sleep outside. She watched El with some concern, but the girl seemed in high spirits and keen for adventure.

“Are there any settlements nearby?” Spock asked El.

The girl shook her head. “There’s the crofters on the ridge but that’s lower down. Oh, wait, I think there’s a cottage on the way to the peak.”

Spock consulted the digital maps Kehoe had given him, and pointed at an ancient building on the map, marked _Winters Fell_. “We may reach that by nightfall if we make good time.”

#

They set off up the hill, following a winding track away from the lake and up a scraggy area of open grass. They walked briskly, following Spock’s map on the same digital pad he’d shown to Kehoe. Uhura could see the device was calculating their pace and the distance they needed to cover.

Suddenly Spock stiffened, and seconds later Uhura heard the drone of an aircraft.

“Quick, over here!” She pulled El with her, and they ran for a nearby patch of bushes. They scrambled out of sight just in time. A small ship, much like the one that had crashed at the dock, appeared in the distance. It circled once, and then headed across the hill to the west.

They continued walking, and after two hours it was clear they wouldn’t gain enough altitude to contact the _Enterprise_ before darkness fell.

Spock showed her the data pad and the map. “I believe we should head for this cottage. It may be derelict, but it will be the best shelter available to us. In the morning we can take the path past the waterfall and continue up to Tarn-Col, the highest part of the mountain.

Uhura nodded. It wasn’t great, but it seemed like the best bet. She watched El as she slowed her pace, dragging her feet over the rocky path. She wondered how much daylight they had left. Integrating the circuits Helios had given her into the transceiver would need good light, it would be no good trying to do it once the light faded. Then a thought occurred to her.

“El, Helios trades components and equipment; does she have a radio receiver?”

“Um, I think so. She keeps in touch with Kelsey by radio when she goes to M’basi to pick things up.”

“Perhaps I can modify this array to get a message to your parents through her. They must be worried sick.”

El’s face fell, and she stopped in her tracks. “Suppose they will be.”

Spock halted. “We must press on.”

“She needs a break, and I need to take a look at these circuits. It will be no good when the light fades.”

“Very well, but the break must be brief.”

While Spock studied the map, and El laid back and stared at the clouds in the vivid blue sky, Uhura wrenched open the transmitter’s service panel and puzzled over how to integrate the alien parts into the Starfleet system with no decent tools. If she could fool the self-organising circuitry into accepting the components as Starfleet issue, then the device would do the work for her. She could use the tricorder to clone the master chip’s unique identifier and imprint it onto Helios’ chips. It was a long shot, but it might just work.

Spock watched her work, raising an occasional eyebrow as she cloned the codes. “A unique approach,” he said. “One might call it cheating.”

“Oh, I’ve learned a few things about manipulating the conditions to suit me. Learned from the best, you might say.” She watched with satisfaction as the tricorder completed the cloning, and then transmitted the new ID codes to the components.

“I won’t know for sure it will enable us to contact the _Enterprise_ until we get high enough to send the signal.” She glanced over at El, who now had her eyes closed. “But I think we should try a surface communication now, before we get any further away from the village.”

“Agreed.”

Uhura scanned the active frequencies for signals. Even as she began to work, she realised the flaw in her plan; Dartan was still searching for them. She had a horrible feeling in the pit of her stom stomach that he would be monitoring transmissions. In her two weeks with him it had become clear how much Dartan hated to lose face.

As Uhura continued to work, and she tuned into a radio station playing what she assumed was popular music.

“I know that,” El said, sitting up. “That’s the _Sound of the City_ , they broadcast from M’basi.”

Uhura continued to scan the airwaves. Suddenly a voice she recognised came from the receiver. It was Dartan.

_“No more excuses! Do I have to come out there myself?”_

_“No, sir. We are redoubling our efforts. They can’t have gotten far.”_

_“Bring the human female in. People need to know that no-one crosses me and gets away with it.”_

_“And the other one?”_

_“Kill him. And anyone who is helping them. But I want the woman alive, do you understand?”_

Uhura quickly flicked the transmission off, a chill gripping her stomach. El was pale, her blue skin drained of colour. And as for Spock, his jaw was set in what appeared to be restrained fury.

Uhura swallowed back her fear. It was no good showing El how afraid she was.

“Sorry El, we better not transmit anything to your family. We dare not give away any clues as to where we are.” Uhura reached out to squeeze the girl’s hand reassuringly. “Look, we’ve got a good head start. If we press on, we should get to the cottage before dark, right Spock?”

Spock nodded, and was already standing up and gathering his things. “We must pick up our pace.”

“Can we keep the music on?”

“I’m sorry honey, we need to conserve power. Maybe later,” Uhura said.

El nodded, trying hard, Uhura imagined, not to look disappointed. “Okay, I’m ready.” She rolled her shoulders, ready to begin to walk once more.

Uhura glanced at El, and leaned close to Spock to speak softly. “I’m worried. She’s doing alright now, but how is she going to cope when she’s hungry and tired and cold?”

Spock nodded. “I understand your concern. We have little choice, however. As we walk I will continue to scan to identify edible plants.”

Spock and Uhura exchanged glances, and then fell into a single file with El between them.

#

By early evening, El was irritable and exhausted and Uhura was hungry and footsore herself. The sun bled purples and oranges into the sky as it crept below the horizon.  The scrubby foothills, thick with bushes and grass, had thinned out long ago to a rocky pathway with rough slopes either side. They had found a fresh spring to fill their water bottles, a few berries along the way and some mushroom-like plants that the tricorder deemed safe to eat. It would make a very poor supper indeed for the three of them.

“I’m starving,” El said, for the fourth time.

“Yep, me too,” Uhura sympathised. It was starting to chill. Before much longer she feared they would be quite cold.

“How much further to the cottage?” Uhura asked Spock.

“Three kilometres. I do not think we will make it before dark,” he said, glancing up at the rapidly disappearing sun.

Uhura cursed under her breath, but forced a cheery tone into her voice. “It was a full moon last night, so there’ll be enough light to see our way.”

El dragged her feet now, but Uhura could see she was trying to be brave. She put an arm around her shoulder, in what she hoped was an encouraging fashion. “You’re doing great,” she said.

El nodded and squinted at the low sun. “Papa and Mama will be going crazy by now.”

“I know, I’m sorry. We never meant for you to get caught up in this. I can only imagine how your parents must be feeling.”

El nodded towards Spock, who had forged onwards, scrambling up a steeper incline ahead with the makeshift sack hung awkwardly over his shoulder. “Are you and Spock going to have children?”

Uhura started. “What? Well, I don’t know. It’s not that simple.”

“Don’t you want a family?”

“We both work on a starship. I don’t know how that would work for us.” Uhura felt herself flush as she spoke. That was a really big question, one they would have to consider eventually, but there had been no time to talk, no space to re-evaluate what spending the night together—and the morning too, she remembered with a pleasant tingle in her chest— meant for their relationship. She guessed this morning’s repeat performance meant he didn’t consider making love a one off slip from his path of restraint. She hoped not, anyway. He’d said they were together now, hadn’t he? She heartily wished they had some time alone, without being chased or terrorised, to work out what the change in their relationship really meant.

She decided it was better not to dwell on that now and pulled the last of the water out of her backpack. “Do you want a drink?” she said, breezily.

El squinted at her, the way Uhura imagined kids did when they knew someone was trying their best to avoid telling them something. El took the water and drank half, and handed the bottle back. “Well, I think your children will be strong and beautiful,” she said.

Uhura blinked rapidly. She had imagined, many times, what her and Spock’s children would look like. But right now, she really had no idea what to say in response to that.

#

It was almost dark. The full moon shone over the scraggy path casting a dim half-light that was just as likely to trip them up as to show them the way. Spock reconfigured his phaser to give off a low red beam and directed it as a kind of torch to illuminate the path. The light it gave off was an eerie red and didn’t help as much as he’d hoped. He didn’t wish to alarm El, but he’d had the sense for some time now that they were not alone on these mountain paths. Hours earlier he’d seen flashes of light glinting in the low evening sun. Fearing it was a craft he’d drawn his weapon, but nothing appeared. Several times as dusk crept up and the shadows grew longer, he thought he heard scuffling in the distance.

The chattering of the evening chorus gave way to a single bird singing a lonely melody. Scratching and then scurrying sounds came from a clump of bushes. El jumped, and Spock saw Uhura reach for the girl’s hand. As they moved on, he heard the rumble of water cascading somewhere ahead. That was a good sign, as it meant the cottage was close.

He stayed closer to El and Uhura now, very aware he had the only weapon. Night closed in, a shroud of darkness falling to taunt him. He tried to focus his mind, but his thoughts returned to his decision to hit Dartan in the village. Part of him, the logical, restrained part, chided himself.  If he had found a way to negotiate they would not be in this situation now. Then again, would he and Nyota have found each other the way they did last night if they had returned to the _Enterprise_ without incident? He would have continued to prevaricate, spun himself in circles with ideas of duty and Vulcan fealty that were at complete odds with his desires. He wasn’t sorry for a single moment of what passed between them. No, the only thing he was truly regretted now was not killing Dartan while he had a chance.

“Spock!” Uhura hissed, gripping his sleeve suddenly.

He heard it immediately: claws scrabbling on gravel. A low, rumbling growl vibrated in his chest. A deafening roar filled the night. He swung the phaser round. A towering figure lumbered towards them, eyes glowing red, teeth exposed.  

El screamed, a high, piercing scream. Uhura pulled the terrified girl behind her.

Stained-red teeth, a shaggy oval face loomed over them. Claws flashed scarlet. Using the phaser’s red beam as a torch meant it was now virtually useless as a weapon until it was reconfigured.

The creature roared again. The ground shook.

“Run!” Spock bellowed to Uhura, shoving the sack he carried backwards into her hands.

“What about you?”

“Go!” he commanded.  She pulled El backwards and up the track. “Run for the cottage!” he called. If they kept running, perhaps they would be safe.

He turned quickly back towards the monster, fumbling with the phaser, desperate to turn the power back up.

The beast roared: Spock fired full blast.

The creature stopped in its tracks for a moment, as if it had been stung by a troublesome insect. The phaser blast had cast just enough light for Spock to see it shake its muzzle. Then they were plunged into darkness again. Spock scrambled backwards, boots flicking up stones and dust.

The creature snarled. Spock raised his weapon again.

“You don’t want to do that. You’ll make him angry,” a voice came from somewhere beside him.

“He is already angry,” Spock replied, trying to locate the speaker and keep backing away from the beast while still staying on his feet.

“Well what do you expect? Leave him be!”

“I will be happy to leave him be, if he will return the favour.”

The creature growled, lower this time, and then seemed to sniff the air with grunting, snuffling snorts.

Spock could still see no one. “I am open to suggestions on how to proceed.”

The voice spoke again. “Hey, hey, hey, Teht, hey, you want this?” He made a click click noise, and then went on, “Dinner time.”

Something flew past Spock in the darkness and land behind the creature. It turned away from him.

“Right, ‘less you want to be the second course, I reckon it’s time to run.”

Spock sprinted after Uhura and El, all the time aware the shadowy figure was following behind. They took a steep track that turned sharply to the left. The outline of the cottage was just ahead. Uhura hovered uncertainly by the broken-down gate. El was almost at the front door.

“Spock!” Uhura rushed towards him and embraced him. “Are you hurt? What happened? Who’s that?” she said, looking over his shoulder.

“Never mind who I am. Get inside,” the figure snapped. He ushered them through the gate, pushed past El and shoved the cottage door open. “In!” he demanded.

Spock followed Uhura and El into the dim cottage. Just before the door was slammed in his face, a shabby, tangled-bearded man snarled, “I’ll be back. Once I’ve checked on Teht and made sure you’ve not gone and sent him down the slopes to get his self killed.”

They all stared at one another for a moment, at a loss for words. “Who was that?” Uhura finally asked.

“Unknown. My phaser was ineffective against the creature. He distracted the beast with something, food most likely, and enabled my escape.”

El started pacing around the dim, musty room. “I don’t believe it,” she exclaimed. “I’ve seen Teht-yen. I’ve actually seen Teht-yen. Tam and Lao are not going to believe it. No one is going to believe it!” In the dark she almost stumbled and sent something crashing over.

“Hang on El—” Uhura cautioned.

Spock’s eyes adjusted quickly to the low light. He drew back a pair of shabby curtains from the window, sending a cloud of choking dust into the room. The full moon shone through the grubby glass, casting just enough light to see the outlines of the room. It was less of a cottage and more of a one room shack, Spock thought, reminiscent of the dwellings found deep in the Vulcan deserts in the time before the awakening. There was a small bed in the corner, a rickety table in the centre of the room, and a cooking pot hanging over the ashes of a long dead fire. Beside the fire was an old dresser, with a few plates and some drawers.

Uhura found half a candlestick thick with dripping wax. “Can we light this?” she asked.

He looked around for a means of doing so, but found nothing. Uhura began opening the draws. “Maybe there’s something…”

El picked up a long pencil-like stick from by the fire. “Here, try this.”

She clicked the end and a spark lit the candle. Uhura grinned at her. “Smart girl.”

With the additional light, they could see a little more, but the room remained gloomy. It didn’t look like anyone had lived there for a good while. “Well,” Uhura said with what Spock suspected was forced cheerfulness, “At least we won’t be sleeping outside. Perhaps we can get the fire going? Make soup, or something?” She peered uncertainly into the cooking pot and then pulled a disgusted face. “Maybe not.”

El flopped onto the bed. “I’ll eat those shrooms raw, I’m so hungry.”

Spock pulled Uhura aside. “We must remain vigilant. I am not wholly convinced our rescuer is on our side.”

Uhura nodded. “I agree.”  Her eyes radiated concern; for him, for El, for their situation. She must be both fatigued and hungry, as he himself was, but in spite of all that, she had shown herself to be capable, determined and resilient. The moonlight cast an almost magical silver sheen to her face. She was breath-takingly beautiful. He felt a sense of pride, an emotion that he feared was rooted in some gender imbalanced, primal force, but he found he could not help himself: _She is the perfect mate._

“What’s wrong?” she asked, after his had gaze rested too long on her face.

“Nothing,” he whispered. “Nothing is wrong. You are a fine officer.”

A half-smile quirked on her lips. “Oh, that’s quite the compliment,” she said.

He sensed from her smile that he could do better. She _deserved_ better. He brought his hands to her waist. “You are a remarkable woman,” he said softly, and that earned him a smile, a full, warm smile that made his pulse elevate, despite his fatigue.

“Are we going to eat?” El asked from her position on the bed. “Do you think there’s any food here?”

Uhura quickly pressed her lips lightly to his and then whispered, “Hold that thought,” before stepping away from him.

“Let’s have a good look, shall we?” she said to El, and began to open the cupboards.

Suddenly, their benefactor burst into the room, rushing at Uhura. Spock flew at him, ready to fell him with a nerve pinch, but the man moved past Uhura and slammed the cupboard door shut. “No, no, no,” he grumbled. His skin was as blue as El’s. His hair may have been white like hers too, once, but now it was a dark mass of grey tangles. His straggly beard seemed to seethe as he shook his head violently back and forth.

“I’m sorry. We thought this place was abandoned. Do you live here?” Uhura said.

“Sometimes I sleep here. When the world is white.”

“This is your winter home? Where do you live the rest of the time?”

“In the outside. In the freshness.” He began to pace. “But you,” he pointed to them each in turn, “you must stay on the inside while it’s dark. Keep from upsetting Teht-yen.”

“We are extremely sorry we disturbed Teht-yen. Did you establish his whereabouts?” Spock said.

The man nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, he’s gone up.” The man waved his arms around wildly, presumably indicating the direction Teht-yen had gone, but succeeding only in resembling an erratic windmill. Then he growled “No thanks to you.”

Uhura stepped forward. “I am Nyota, this is El, and Spock. What’s your name?”

“Names aint good for much up here.”

“We don’t want to disturb you. Or Teht-yen. But we really need somewhere safe to stay tonight.”

He stopped pacing and stared at them. “Be safer for him if you stay out of the way.” His eyes settled on El. “‘Suppose the young ‘un is hungry?”

El nodded. “I’m starving.”

“We’re all hungry,” Uhura said. “Look, we have some of these.” She held some of the vegetables El had called shrooms in the palm of her hand and offered them to their host.

He sniffed, and then nodded. “I’ll feed you, and let you sleep in, if you promise to be off the mountain before nightfall tomorrow.”

“Agreed,” Spock said, without hesitation. He hoped they would be able to keep that promise.

#

Their host busied himself starting a fire in the ash-choked hearth, and then he grabbed the cooking pot—all the time grumbling to himself— and took it towards the door. Uhura hoped it was to clean it, but frankly she was so hungry she was beyond caring about that as much as she should.

He came back a short while later with the pot full of water, and a bag of vegetables under his skinny blue arms. He wore a simple dark robe, tied at the waist with a rope, and the soles of his boots were worn so thin Uhura wondered that they gave him any protection at all. How long had he lived on the mountain?

As the water heated, he began to scrape some root vegetables with a small knife, and then throw chunks into the pot. He would stop and squint up at them occasionally, then shake his head and go back to peeling.

Finally, as he stirred the concoction with a ladle he’d pulled out from one of the drawers, Uhura tried to talk with him again.

“So, you don’t stay in much, then? You prefer to be outside?”

He grunted. Then he waved the ladle between the three of them. “You, young ‘un. You belong here. Well not _here_ , down there, in the low-country.” He brought the candle uncomfortably close to Uhura’s face and then did the same to Spock. “But these two? Dark and light. Night and day. Off-worlders, they are.” He directed his next statement to El. “Not your parents. Did they steal you?”

“No, of course not!” she exclaimed. “They are Shakra-mon-sha. They saved my brother’s life!”

“Did they? What you all doing up here, then, where you don’t belong?”

“In order to make contact with our vessel we must ascend another thousand feet.”

“Up top? Not a good idea.”

“They are going to take me to their spaceship,” El chipped in excitedly. She had spent most of the last half hour by the fire, frequently looking into the pot. “Is that ready to eat yet, my uncle?”

“Not your uncle,” he said, but Uhura could see there was no heat in his words. “I know what you’re doing. Never was no-one’s uncle,” he said. “Suppose you got uncles aplenty, girl?”

El shrugged.

His nose wrinkled in a show of distaste. Then he shrugged. “You can call me Hafren”

The smell of the cooking pot wafted through the room, and Uhura’s stomach protested loudly at the inordinate amount of time since their last meal. Hafren dug into his sack and brought out three apple-like fruits.

He offered one to Uhura, and then to El and Spock. “Long time since breakfast, dare say,” he mumbled without meeting their eyes.

Uhura just nodded, wasting no time biting into the fruit. It tasted as good as anything she’d eaten her whole life.

“Why do you stay up here, all on your own?” El asked, with a mouthful of fruit.

“I ain’t on me own. Teht-yen and me, we do all right. Look out for each other, we do.”

“What, is he tame?” El asked in surprise.

“Wouldn’t say tame. But he asks me no questions and tells me no lies. More than I could say of that lot down there.”

“Are you from M’basi?” El pressed, as she wiped the juice running down her chin away with her sleeve.

“Enough questions!” Hafren snapped, waving his hands irritably. He picked up a poker shoved it in the fire, sending a shower of sparks across the room.

#

Ten minutes later they were eating the soup, which turned out to be not half bad, although all three of them would probably have eaten pretty much anything at that point and called it a feast. Uhura was too tired to talk much, and El was fully occupied eating as fast as she could. Uhura realised Spock had been watching Hafren carefully, tracking his every move, vigilant for any sign the man might be a threat. But Uhura didn’t think he was. For all his gruff exterior, she saw kindness behind his eyes.

Spock ate his soup slowly, still watching. “When I mentioned we need to go further up the mountain, you said it was not a good idea. Please elaborate.”

“Lots of reasons,” Hafren said.

“Specify.”

“He’s a bit abrupt, this Shakra-mon-sha of yours,” Hafren said to El. “Sitting there guarding the pair of you like I’m…”

“Do I need to be on guard?” Spock interjected calmly.

“Not from me. I never hurt no-one. But that don’t count for much, does it?”

His voice held a bitter note. Uhura wondered what drove him to live up here with only Teht-yen for company.

When she had finished her soup, Uhura crouched next to him by the fire. She placed two fingers to her heart, lips and then her forehead. She couldn’t explain it, but something told her to trust this man.

“Thank you. You’ve taken us in and fed us and I think you have a kind heart. You don’t have to tell us anything at all if you don’t want to. But I hope you’ll tell us enough to keep us safe as we go up the mountain. We need to make contact with our ship, and then get El home to her parents.”

He stared at her for a long time, blinking occasionally, and Uhura wondered for a moment if he was going to cry.

“Been a long time since anyone’s said anything nice about me,” he said after a while. “See this?” He took a faded picture of a young woman in a long silver dress from the folds of his robes. “That’s my wife. Piria. Smartest girl I ever knew. I’d never had much in the way of family, but I had her. We was going to have a young one, too. But she went missing one day. Never came home from work. They asked me, questions, questions, questions. When did I last see her? Were we fighting? Had I hurt her? They never let up, until I almost believed myself I done something wrong. But I never did. I never would. But the damage was done. Everyone thought I did. A year of hell. It was just about calming down when…” He paused and looked into the fire for a long time. “They found her. Someone had hurt my Piria. Killed her.” His eyes were large with tears, his voice choked. “It started all over again, only worse, questions, the looks, the silence. People I thought were friends looking at me like I’d—I couldn’t stand it. So one night I came up the mountain and I never went back.”

“And now you take care of Teht-yen?” Uhura said.

“He don’t mean no harm. He’s the last of his kind. He just needed a bit of help to stay out of trouble, that’s all.”

“He is lucky to have a friend in you,” Uhura said, and then glanced over at El, who had lain down again after eating her soup and was already asleep. Uhura took the blanket they had been using as a sack-bag and spread it over her.

“Wouldn’t want to see no harm come to the young ‘un,” Hafren said, thoughtfully. Then he seemed to come to a decision.

“If you have to go up top, you watch out for the euphorbia. It’s hungry as hell further you go up and it’ll spit a good long way. That stuff will blind you.”

“How can a plant be hungry?” Uhura asked.

“Carnivorous plants are not unknown, even on Earth,” Spock pointed out. “Once a prey animal is blinded, it is easy to entwine and devour.”

“Ugh, lovely. Anything else?” Uhura asked, really hoping there wasn’t.

“The letrinum mining left the slopes unstable.”

“They mined the letrinum from here?” Uhura asked in surprise. She had thought the letrinum was brought in from across the continent.

“Used to. They ripped the heart out of this mountain and moved on. It’s dangerous, now.”

“We have little choice,” Spock said.

Hafren nodded, but said little more. He started gathering the bowls, and then with a quick bow to Uhura, he went to the door.

“You can lock the door, if you like, but I won’t come back until morning.”

“What a sad story,” Uhura said as the door closed behind him.

Spock nodded, but he drew the bolt across the door anyway. He sat down by the embers of the cooking fire and took the radio transmitter from the bag and turned it on, keeping the volume low to avoid waking El.

“This is Commander Spock of the _USS Enterprise_ to any Starfleet vessel.”

The _transmitting_ icon spun around for several seconds, and then a red _transmission failed_ message flashed onto the screen. Uhura shook her head. They would need to get higher, much higher before it would work.

She flicked through the frequencies until she found the bands Dartan used. A low voice chilled her.

_“…lower foothills are clear. Sir, we should consider calling the search off. The time and resources—”_

_“Negative. Search a higher altitude tomorrow. No-one makes a fool of me. No-one.”_

Spock turned the transmission off. “It seems he will not give up lightly. We must leave at first light and attain enough altitude for the transporter to work.”

“Spock,” she whispered, assailed by a fear that had hovered at the back of her mind all day. “We don’t know if we’ll be able to beam out. What if we’re stuck here?”

He paused, and then spoke quietly but deliberately. “Whether we are stuck here or we make it back to the ship,” he said, “we will make a life together.”

She looked into his eyes, the eyes of a Vulcan who she knew would tell her no lies, but she still needed reassurance.  “Do you mean it?” she whispered.

“My indecision is over. I pledge myself to you.” He paused, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “If you wish it,” he added softly.

“Yes, yes, I wish it,” she said, choked with relief.  

“Then I am yours, Nyota Uhura.” He pulled her into a long kiss.

When the kiss broke, Uhura cast a rueful glance at the single bed. “When we woke up this morning, this really wasn’t how I imagined our day ending,” she said. She’d thought they would spend night together in the shuttle, less comfortable than at Fetia’s home, to be sure, but sheltered and private. _This_ was as frustrating as hell in so many ways. “We seem to have a knack for finding ourselves in uncomfortable places.”

He took her hand, lacing her fingers between his. “We will be back on the Enterprise soon.” He glanced over at El, asleep, and bent forward to whisper in Uhura’s ear. “Then we will have a choice of comfortable places to be together.”

He brought his lips to her neck and kissed her gently, an exploration, a promise, and then he murmured, “My quarters…your quarters.”  

She wished they were there now, safe and alone. But they had much more to do before that could be so. “That’s a date, then,” she whispered. As curled next to El on the small bed, Uhura watched Spock watching them; back straight, in stoic meditation. She smiled as she remembered his words, his pledge to her. That was something worth waiting for. Worth fighting for, she thought, as she drifted into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. Do let me know what you think, or just say hello, in the comments. :)


	10. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock, Uhura and El must find their way to safety.

In the pale early morning light, Spock paused before he woke Uhura. She lay on the small bed next to El, and the child had huddled closer to her against the cold.  He had maintained a light meditative state through the night, which enabled him to rest and also watch them both sleep. Now, more than ever, he was driven to keep her safe. Until a few days ago, he had not understood the true gift of intimacy, the pleasure two people could bring one another. The possibilities were endlessly fascinating, he decided. He longed to be alone with her, somewhere safe and warm, to explore this new reality between them.

But the day ahead would be filled with danger: Dartan was still searching for them; higher up the mountain it would be much colder, and the terrain filled with hazards from carnivorous plants to the unstable slopes. And added to that, unless they were able to beam out before nightfall, Teht-yen would be a problem.

Something ancient and powerful stirred within him. He would get them safely off this mountain, he swore it. He had not saved one of Kehoe’s children only to lose another. And he was not about to lose Nyota, not now. Not ever.

He bent over, hand on heart, and placed a kiss on her lips to seal his vow to himself.

She opened her eyes and her face seemed to light up. “Good morning,” she said, her voice soft with sleep.

“We must depart,” he said.

Uhura sat upright, and then gently shook El. “Time to get up.”

The girl groaned and turned over onto her side, away from them. Uhura shook her again. “We have to go, El. Wake up.”

“It can’t be morning yet,” she complained.

Spock opened the curtains to let the early morning light flood in and then he unlatched and opened the door. The morning was cool, the air fresh and clear. Although Spock had heard nothing, Hafren had clearly been back, because there was a bucket of clear water, some packs containing more of the fruit he had given them last night, and what looked like strips of dried meat beside the bucket. Spock filled the drinking bottles with the fresh water and drained one, before filling them again for Uhura and El. None of them had consumed sufficient hydration yesterday and they had a long day ahead.

When he took the water and food indoors El was sitting bleary eyed on the side of the bed, Uhura next to her with her arm around her shoulders. On a closer look, it seemed the girl had been crying.

“You have been really brave, El. We just need you to carry on a bit longer.”

“Sorry,” El sniffed. “I miss Mama.”

“Of course you do. And you’ll see her soon. We promise, don’t we, Spock?”

“Indeed. You should consume these,” Spock said, handing her the bottle and fruit.

They ate quickly and prepared to leave. Hafren was still nowhere in sight.

“We have nothing to repay his kindness with,” El said as they cleared up their gear. “Mama always says pay kindness with kindness.”

“I think the best gift we could give him would be to get ourselves off the mountain, and leave him and Teht-yen in peace,” Uhura said as they closed the door behind them.

Spock led the way, the blanket bag over his shoulder, striding out up the rough path to the summit.

“It’s going to get colder,” Uhura said, looking up towards the white capped peak. “How far up do we need to get?”

“It is difficult to be precise. I suggest we attempt short transmission every hour. We must balance the risk of Dartan intercepting the message against the probability of rescue.”

“I wish we knew if the Enterprise received the coded message I sent when we were on the beach. They might be on their way. Or already here, in orbit.”

“Your friends are up there?” El looked to the sky in wonder.

“Perhaps,” Uhura said. “We’ll know when we get high enough.”

They set a brisk pace though the grey early morning light, and although the sun rose the temperature dropped as they ascended. The path narrowed until it could barely be called a path at all, and the grass fields gave way to barren, rocky slopes with patches of euphorbia clinging to the sides of the hills. The plants seemed to track them, pale green leaves pulsing as if in a breeze, although the air was quite still.

As they walked Spock pulled the transmitter from Uhura’s pack and tried to send a message. Again the signal failed to transmit.

He raised an eyebrow at Uhura, but said nothing.

#

They walked on, climbing the rocky path that got rougher with every turn. El heard it first this time. “A ship!” she said, pointing back along the path. Whole swathes of countryside stretched out below them. What yesterday seemed a hard walk now looked flat. A sleek, black ship—one of Dartan’s—swept methodically back and forth across the lowlands. Spock wondered how much longer Dartan would search. The logical thing for him to have done would have been to stop before now: they had nothing of his and had done him no harm, beyond wounding his pride. Perhaps that was enough for some men. Or perhaps he had bigger secrets.

They stayed low until the ship went passed out of sight and then they pressed on. The day passed in that gruelling fashion, trudging up the mountain, colder with every step, and then periodically they would run and hide when one of Dartan’s ships flew overhead. Once, they lost almost an hour hiding in a damp cave as a ship scoured the area intensely.   

Spock saw El’s exhaustion, and the concern growing in Nyota’s eyes every time they tried and failed to contact the _Enterprise._  

“How much further?” she asked him.

He wished he had an answer. “I do not know.”

“At least Dartan seems to have stopped. It must be an hour since we heard anything.”

Spock nodded, hoping her conjecture was true. There were other possibilities, though. There were plenty of places on the craggy mountainside to land and conceal a ship.

He scouted ahead, checking each outcrop they passed for signs of disturbance, but as the light dimmed that became harder. A chill wind picked up, tugging at their clothes and biting their skin, and El began to shiver. Uhura got the blanket from the backpack from her backpack and offered it to El, who pulled it tight around her shoulders. Dark clouds rolled in from behind them, covering the sun.  

They pressed on against the wind in the low light. He raised his voice in order to be heard over the buffeting gusts. “We should try to contact the _Enterprise_ again,” he said.

Together they fumbled the transmitter from the backpack. Her icy cold hand brushed his. Her body temperature must be falling rapidly, her uniform offering her little protection against the freezing wind. He took her hands between his, and blew on them.

“You are extremely cold,” he said. He knew his physiology would allow him to endure much more than she could. He felt something keen and sharp inside his chest. To care for her so deeply, he realised, brought pain as well as joy. As her pleasure thrilled him, her discomfort made him ache; was this the benefit and burden of love?

“Nyota,” he said, his voice soft, “will you attempt to contact the ship while I disassemble this bag?” He passed the transmitter to her while he removed the rope from the makeshift backpack. The supplies it had held this morning were long gone and the blanket would be better used to keep her warm.

She activated the transmitter. “This is Lieutenant Uhura to any Starfleet vessel. Any _Federation_ vessel—”

Spock looked up sharply as he heard El scream. She had been standing close by, he was sure of it, but now he couldn’t see her at all.

“El?” Uhura called out, hastily shoving the transmitter back in her pack.

“Nyota!” El called, her voice high with fear.

Spock dropped the blanket and drew his phaser, heading quickly towards the sound. Ahead was a wall of grey, shadowy rocks that Spock quickly realised were not rocks at all, but the outline of a squat ship. Dartan stood in front of the vessel. In the low light, Spock could see that Dartan’s eye was a mottled black where his punch had hit home three days ago. Dartan held El around the neck, his gun pressed to the side of her head. He heard Uhura gasp in horror.

“Well, you’ve sent me on a merry chase,” Dartan boomed. “But I can’t have you two telling tales to the council.”

Instinctively, Spock pulled the Nyota behind him. She had no weapon. “The child has no part in this,” he said. “Let her go.”

“But she does,” Dartan said, stepping forward. “You’ve made me look weak. And do you know what happens to weak men? They lose face. Then they lose power. And before you know it, no one respects them.” He gave a sickening smile. “But this is a pretty game. Perhaps I’ll take her.” He moved the gun clumsily along El’s cheek. “You’ll respect me, won’t you?”

El whimpered, and Spock felt Nyota step forward. “You can’t be serious,” she said, in disbelief. “She’s a _child._ ”

Dartan leered. “True. I’d much rather take _you_ , Starfleet. Tell you what, you come with me and I’ll let her go.”

Spock gripped Uhura’s arm, before she could even think trade herself for El, for he feared this must be in her mind. This man could not be trusted to keep his word.

“Respect is not won by cheating and abusing those under your power, Dartan. Only a fool thinks so,” Spock called. His throat tightened.  Anger began to simmer in his chest.  

Dartan laughed a cruel, sneering laugh. “Then I am a fool. But I’m a fool who gets what he wants. What’s it to be?”

Uhura turned to face Spock, raised her hands to his chest. “Spock, do you trust me?” she whispered urgently.

He looked at her, his mind numb. “I trust you,” he said. And he did trust her, but cold horror curled at the base of his stomach as the words passed his lips.

“Then let me do this my way,” she said.

Turning away from him, she walked slowly towards Dartan. “I’ll come with you. I won’t even fight you. But only if you let El go and leave Spock unharmed.”

Dartan smiled, his teeth flashing white in the dimming light. “Alright.” He shoved El forward and instantly trained his weapon on Uhura.

Spock ground his teeth, his jaw locked. He looked around. She must have a plan. He would be ready.

Uhura walked slowly towards Dartan. El was in between them, so Spock had no chance of a clear shot. His heart began to pound, he felt in pulsing in his temples.

El reached his side.

Dartan had his arm around Uhura’s waist now, the gun to her ribs, and his foul hand on her belly. “I do like to look at beautiful things,” he said, with his cheek pressed to hers. She turned her face away.

Spock’s world turned red. He took a step forward. She raised one finger towards him and her eyes burned him. Wait, they said. _Trust me._

Dartan stepped backwards, once, twice, closer to his ship, pulling Uhura with him. Taking the woman he loved. It was so clear in that moment; he loved her and he had for a very long time. How had he ever doubted?

Then in a blur, she thrust her leg back, swung her hips and ducked. She threw Dartan over her shoulder. He tumbled into a patch of euphorbia that Spock had not even noticed. The plants turned in on Dartan, spraying his face with thick, sticky sap. He screamed and clawed his eyes. “Help me!”

Uhura didn’t look back. She grabbed El’s hand and yelled, “Run!” They bolted towards the path and scrambled upwards, and didn’t stop until Dartan’s agonised screams faded into the distance.

They stood panting, catching their breath. Uhura hugged El. “Are you alright? I’m so sorry,” she said.

El was half-laughing, the scared, almost hysterical laugh of a frightened child. “I hope those euphorbia digest him slowly!”

Spock stood uncertainly, watching them embrace, rocked with a rush of emotions. Fear, anger, hate, love, and now pride, all welling up into a confusing morass of feelings. He probably needed to meditate. Instead, he put his arms around both of them and let their feelings engulf him and merge with his own. It was not an unpleasant sensation at all, he reflected.

They continued upwards, the darkness closing in fast now. After another ten minutes Spock stopped and transmitted the message again. This time it spun around for longer. Uhura tapped the top of the transmitter. “That’s a good sign,” she said. “It might mean—”

A familiar voice came from the set. “Spock, what’s going on down there?”

“Captain? Our mission has been compromised. We need emergency beam out. Three to transport.”

“We’ll be in transporter range in…less than an hour. _Three_ to beam out?”

“We have a civilian child with us. Captain, the phasic disturbance we came here to investigate has worsened. Mr Scott might need to reconfigure the transporter.”

Spock heard the captain say, “Mr Chekov, initiate a long range scan of Denab and send what data you collect to Mr Scott.” There was a pause. “Spock, are you and Uhura alright?”

He glanced up at Uhura, her eyes shining in the low light. “Yes,” he said. “We are both in excellent health. But Chief Dartan has shown himself to be…a criminal. He is not to be trusted.”

“Understood. Kirk out.”

#

“What do we do? Wait here where the ground seems quite stable or risk climbing higher to give the Enterprise a better shot at beaming us out?” Uhura mused.

Spock could see El shivering with the cold now, her light clothing unsuited to the higher altitude.

Spock checked the tricorder readings. The waves on the screen, a visual representation of the atmospheric disturbance, were weaker than they had been last time they checked, but it would still interfere with the transporter.

“I believe we should ascend further. These energy readings could still cause the transporter beam to fail.”

“Is it safe, though?” Uhura asked, with a worried glance further up the mountain.

“I am scanning for geological instability now.” He didn’t like what he saw. Hafren had been right, the whole area was unstable. Before Spock could speak, an engine started up in the distance.

“Surely he’s not trying to fly that thing!” Uhura exclaimed, and then she grabbed El’s hand. “I think he is. Come on!”

Spock led them a zigzagging route up the mountain side, avoiding the areas the tricorder warned were unstable, until El paused, panting.

“I have to stop,” she gasped. Spock turned just she was about to lean against a towering pile of loose rocks.

“Don’t!” Spock lurched towards her, grabbing her just in time to stop her dislodging the slag pile. He looked up, and so did she, trembling a little. “Mining debris,” he explained. “Unstable.”

They hurried onward. Lights, and low buzz of an engine grew closer. Suddenly it bore down on them out of the gloom, swerving and veering.

“He must be flying close to blind!” Uhura called, pulling the exhausted El along with her.

They ducked as the ship skimmed overhead, cannons blasting, illuminating the darkness with a green glow.

Spock fired three times at the ship’s underbelly. One beam hit, the others vanished into the night sky. The ship rolled hard left, its wing skimming the slag-pile, sending a spray of rocks shooting into the air  

“Look out!” Spock yelled. With a deep groan, the pile of mining debris shuddered. The ship spun wildly, rocks battering the sides in a deafening crash.

Spock leapt to his feet. He’d lost sight of Uhura and El. He ran through a storm of battering rocks and choking dust, barely able see one foot ahead of him. He paused in confusion, blinded, the roar of the engine and the grinding of metal and rock filling the night. He shouted for Nyota, but her name became a scream, as the world fell away under his feet. He scrabbled madly for a handhold, but slithered and slipped downwards, mud and roots tearing away in his hands, until he landed, hard, feet first. His head jerked backwards and his spine jolted, sending a roaring pain up his back.  He staggered, but managed to keep his feet. He looked around. He was on a narrow ledge, his phaser gone.

“Spock!” Uhura yelled from above.

“Down here!”

“Spock! Are you hurt?”

He surveyed his position. No hope of climbing up that sheer wall of crumbling mud. The ledge led back down the mountain, how far he couldn’t tell.

“I am not incapacitated.” He rubbed his neck. Pain shot down his spine, but he could walk. “I will double back and re-join the trail lower down. You keep moving.”

“Not without you!”

“When you reach the _Enterprise_ , you can send assistance if I have not caught up.”

She hesitated. He could sense her reluctance to leave him. But she had to go. If Dartan survived the crash he was still a threat.

“Alright, alright, just hurry!” She paused. “I love you,” she said.

He wanted to tell her, tell the universe that he felt the same, that he could love her back, that he _did_ love her back, there was no doubt in his mind now. But the words died on his lips, and his reply felt weak to his own hears.

“I am aware,” he replied. “Please get to yourself and El to safety.”

#

“He’s right. He’ll catch up. He’ll be okay.” Uhura said outloud, mainly to reassure El. She desperately hoped it was true. She didn’t know how far he had fallen, or if he was really hurt. Would he have lied and told her to go if he was lying at the bottom with broken legs? Her stomach turned over at the thought, and she wanted to run back. But he was right. She should get El to safety and then get help for him. Is this what it felt like for parents, she wondered, tearing their hearts out to keep everyone safe?

As the dust cleared a little she could see the ship smashed into the rocks, smoke pouring from the hull, flames licking from the crumpled front. She couldn’t find it in her heart to care if Dartan got out before it blew.

“I hope you burn,” she muttered. “Come on,” she said to El as they started off up the mountain side. “I’m going to show you our spaceship.”

#

Spock stumbled along the mountain path. The air was thick with dust, he could barely see, and the pain in his spine jolted with every excruciating step. He could hear rocks rumble and fall periodically, but couldn’t see far enough ahead to know where they were falling. The smell of aviation fuel was thick in the air, and he saw flames in the distance. Somewhere from lower down the mountain, a mighty, aching roar rang out. Teht-yen. The dark man was truly disturbed now. Spock ran on.

#

Uhura fumbled with the transmitter. “Uhura to _Enterprise_ ,” she said, aware her voice held barely concealed panic.

The ‘transmitting’ signal looped slowly around. The transmitter shook in her hands. El covered her hands with her own and they held the device steady together.

“This is the _Enterprise._ Situation report, Lieutenant,” came the captain’s voice.

Uhura almost wanted to cry, _thank god_ , out loud, but she took a breath and spoke calmly.

“We have become separated from Commander Spock. Request emergency beam out. Two from this location. Commander Spock is—”

“We’re working on it, Lieutenant. Mr Scott thinks he can reconfigure the Heisenberg Compensators to deal with all the layers of disturbance down there. He said it would help if you got higher.”   

“Of course it would,” Uhura muttered wearily. Then she straightened up, glanced at El, and said. “Understood, sir.”

#

Spock half ran, half stumbled back along the path, searching in the gloom for the way back to the trail they had taken just a few minutes before. It had to be here. If the moon showed its face from behind the clouds, he’d stand a better chance. Frustration built in his chest like an angry wasp, buzzing to get free. He tried to still his mind, but pain from his spine invaded his awareness with every step. The thought of Dartan somewhere on the hill returned to his mind. The man’s pathologic pursuit of them defied logic. Unless he had something more to hide than syphoning off top grade letrinium crystals.

The orange glow of the crashed ship shimmered in the distance, which meant he was on the right track. He increased his pace, despite the pain in his back, despite the heaviness in his lungs from the dust and smoke in the air.  

Flames from the stricken vessel licked into the night sky, painting the moon orange, and as he got closer smoke hung in thick clouds. He pulled his shirt over his mouth, his eyes watering, and forced his legs toward the ship.

Its side hatch lay open: Dartan had made it out.

Something simmered in Spock’s belly, an emotional reaction he didn’t try to contain, for it drove him forward. He realised with a jolt that this is exactly what emotions are for. They drive a man to protect the things he cares for. Logic can do that, but love does it faster, makes a man run harder, jump further. Because to protect the things he loved, Spock realised, he would never, ever stop.

Spock blundered on through the blinding smoke and dust with the crook of his arm against his nose, eyes streaming.

#

The mountainside had become too steep to climb much further, Uhura realised. Rocks were dislodged with every step they took, sending scree skittering down the slope that was not only likely to give their position away, but also in danger of taking them with it.

“We should stop here,” Uhura said, panting, when they found small area that was relatively flat with a decent sized boulder for cover.

“Do you think we’re high enough?”

They couched together, El opening the blanket to let Uhura closer and share what little warmth it provided. Uhura could feel the girl trembling, and she didn’t think it was just from the cold. She put her arm around her shoulder and hugged her close.

“Well, Mr Scott is on the case. Do you know what we call him on the _Enterprise_?”

El shook her head, her teeth chattering now.

“We call him the ‘miracle worker.’ If anyone can get us off here, it’s Montgomery Scott.”

“I’m going to see your spaceship, aren’t I?” El’s voice was faint, through the cold, or dehydration or sheer exhaustion Uhura didn’t know.

“Hey, stay awake. I need you to help me contact my captain.” She dug the transmitter from her backpack, and they held it between them. “Look, use this button here.”

Uhura opened a channel. She looked up sharply a roar rang out in the distance.

“He won’t come up here, will he?” El mumbled.

“Lieutenant Nyota Uhura to _Enterprise_ ,” she said urgently, aware of the tremor in her own voice now. “ _Enterprise_ , come in.”

“I read you, Lieutenant. We’re almost there. ETA seven minutes. Is Commander Spock with you now?”

“No sir, he’s still lower down the mountain.” She had no idea how Spock would find them in the darkness.

As she spoke, a flashlight appeared, swinging back and forth on the slope below. Her first irrational flush of hope that it was Spock dissipated quickly. He didn’t have a torch. Only one person up here would conceivably have a torch. Dartan.

The beam settled on the scattered path they’d made scrambling up here. A cold chill gripped her chest. The tracks would lead him directly up here. She forced herself to take a breath. He was a big, angry man, but he was also half-blind, he had to be after falling in the euphorbia like that and flying so erratically. She’d dealt with him once and she could do it again. To hell with him! There had to be something she could use as a weapon up here. No sticks. She fumbled on the ground for a rock, a stone, anything.

The light swung back and then jerked up the slope. Uhura looked up wards. Perhaps they should go further up. They had to be able to move faster than he could. How many minutes? Maybe six now. They would have to risk it.

She hissed to El, “We’re going to have to…”

El was staring over her shoulder.

“What?” she said, with a fear clutching at her chest. She imagined she felt hot breath on her neck. If she turned around now…

The roar rumbled so deeply it shook the scree and sent rocks skittering down towards Dartan.

El’s eyes were wide with terror. Uhura turned around slowly. Just meters away Teht-yen stood framed against the dark sky. His bear-like muzzle filled with sharp teeth, white in the moonlight, his shaggy coat as black as coal. He was at least twice Uhura’s height, and he stood on his back feet, his arms hung by his side, cruel claws at the end of his huge paw-like hands.

“Okay, El. I think we’ll…” They scrambled to their feet, El still clutching the transmitter.

They backed away from Teht-yen, who stood as if marking his territory.

Uhura’s heart pounded as she clutched the rock tight in one hand. The light was still moving erratically below. If they could get behind him they would stand a better chance.

“Come on!” She led El to the left, hoping with Teht-yen would distract Dartan enough to let them slip away. Another outcrop of rocks was just visible in the shadows. “Over here!”

As Uhura took a step the slope moved under her feet. She slid away from El, careening down still on her feet at first, and then she jerked sharply backwards, caught up in a small avalanche of rocks. She skidded down the slope directly towards Dartan. She clawed furiously at the ground, but everything she tried to grasp slipped away. The light blinded her. She crashed into Dartan. In a tangle of legs and arms they both twisted and tumbled to the ground.

Uhura tried to move. Something pinned her legs. She opened her eyes to see Dartan’s face: his blue skin blistered and peeling around one bloodshot eye, and the other swollen and closed tight. She turned her face away from his leering breath.

“Not quite what I pictured,” he said, pinning her. “But it will do.”

She closed her fist tight around the rock in her hand. “How dare you? How dare you use your size and power this way? You’re more an animal than that creature up there!” she spat in disgust.

He brought his big, ugly hands around her throat, pressing her windpipe. As a reflex, she shot her hands straight up and out, crashing against the insides of his arms. At the same time she swung her knee sharply up and to the side, wedging it against his chest. In one smooth move she slid away from him, propelling him in the other direction.

While he lay grunting, she gained her feet, the rock still clutched in her hand.

#

Spock heard the sounds of a struggle and Nyota cry out. He ran, faster than he ever had, scrambling up the slopes, pushing the pain in his back out of his awareness, caring for nothing but reaching her.

He stumbled into a flat area and saw her, standing crouched in a defensive position.

“Nyota!” he gasped.

“Spock, watch—” she began.

A hand gripped Spock’s ankle. Then all he knew was a sensation of falling and fumbling, knees and elbows, scuffing and punching. The pain in his back, already severe, jolted him with electric-like shocks down his spine. Then Dartan shoved something at his face. A searing pain burned his eyes. He cried out, clawing his face, thrusting leaves Dartan had shoved there away. The world blurred. He felt hands closing around his neck.

For a moment, Spock heard nothing but the sound of his own pulse pounding in his ears.

Then Dartan screamed. A loud, angry, guttural sound. Spock forced his flaming eyes open, and saw Dartan clutching the left side of his head and rolling away. Uhura must have struck his temple with something, Spock surmised, but it was like it was all happening underwater, too slow, sounds muted, his vision blurred. He could do nothing. Spock had not felt so helpless since he stood on the cliff on the day Vulcan died, watching his mother slip through his fingers.  

He realised he should get up, move, do something, but the fire in his eyes drilled into his soul, robbing him of the power to move. Hazily, he saw Dartan on all fours, his teeth white, grinning, or snarling, ready to pounce. Spock could not force his limbs to co-operate. He couldn’t see Nyota at all.

Before his word faded from blurred to blackness, the last thing Spock saw was a petite Starfleet issue boot, slamming full force into Dartan’s stomach.   

#

El clutched the transmitter. She hid behind the rock Nyota had pointed at before the landslide took her. Seven minutes the man said. It must be that now. She tried fiddling with the dial like Nyota had. The set crackled. Teht-yen prowled back and forth on the slope above. Spock, Dartan and Nyota were struggling below.

She switched the transmitter on. “Hello? Is that Nyota’s spaceship?”

“Aye, this is the USS Enterprise. Can you put Mr Spock or Lieutenant—”

“No, no, I can’t. I think you need to do the beaming thing now!”

“Ah, lassie, would you be the civilian child—”

“Just do the thing!” El yelled at the device.

“I need a signal to bounce back off, lassie. Can you get this transmitter close to all three of you?”

“They’re fighting!  And there’s a big, growly beast of a monster here too!” El said. Her heart rattled so hard she thought it would burst right out of her chest, and yet her feet were like stone. It was just like being back at the lake, only this time there was no one else to rush into the water and save the day.

“I can’nae get a fix on all three of you through this phasic interference. You are going to have to be brave, lassie.”

Teht-yen roared into the night and lumbered down the slope.

Young El screwed up every last ounce of her courage and raced downwards, slipping and sliding until she barrelled into Nyota’s surprised arms.

“Is that close enough, Mr Miracle worker?” she screamed at the transmitter.

“Aye, that it is.”

The transporter beam wrapped them in a golden caress, lifted El and Spock and Uhura from the cold, dark mountain, and brought them safely home.

#

As the tingle of the transporter faded, Uhura clutched Spock’s hand, squatting by his side.

McCoy was on the transporter pad in moments. As he scanned Spock, Uhura turned to the transporter control station. “Mr Scott, can you beam one more up from those co-ordinates?”

“Aye, if the signal’s not scattered already…”

“Then get a security team in here. Place Dartan under arrest as soon as you beam him up.”

McCoy was frowning rigorously as he looked at the readings from Spock’s scan. “What’s he been exposed to?” he barked.

“Euphorbia sap,” El said.

“And what the hell has he been doing to his back?”

“Doctor, it is a long story,” Uhura said. “Can you do something for him?”

“We’ll see,” McCoy snapped.

As McCoy’s team took Spock to sickbay, the captain came into the transporter room with questions, and the security team barged in, Uhura suddenly felt bone weary. She put her hand to her throat where Dartan’s thumbs had pressed into her windpipe. She needed to regroup, gather her thoughts.

She looked at El, who was standing uncertainly in the corner of the transporter room.

Uhura embraced the girl. “You were incredibly brave.”

#

Doctor McCoy assured Uhura that Spock was in safe hands, although he would be in a healing coma for hours and in sickbay at least a few days. Uhura showered and quickly grabbed something to eat. She wanted to be the one to take El back to her parents.

Nodding at the officer on duty outside the guest quarters, who was there to make sure the curious visitor didn’t wander off and get lost, she knocked on the door.

El was at the window, staring out into space. She turned as Uhura entered.

“Nyota! This is…it’s amazing!”

“You were amazing too, El,” Uhura said.

El blushed, her cheek’s deepening blue. “For a moment, my feet were stone. But I found my courage after all.”

“Yes you did,” Uhura said, hugging the girl. She would miss her a great deal. “We should get you back to your family. The Captain has assigned us a security detail, just in case any of Dartan’s men are still around. He’s already spoken to the M’bai council. They’ve formally requested assistance in the investigation and the captain agreed. It seems Dartan is in trouble for a lot more than what he did on the mountain.” Uhura looked closely at El. “He must have terrified you.”

El nodded. “He did. He was horrible,” she paused, and then grinned. “Will you show me how to do that?” she said, mimicking throwing an imaginary Dartan over her shoulder.

Uhura laughed. “Let’s get you home to your parents first. But if they agree, we’ll come back up here and in our gym. We’ll be here a few more days, so there is time.”

#

Three days later, Uhura brought El into sick bay. Spock’s skin was not so pale now, and his eyes less glassy than they had been. McCoy had him on extended bed-rest to ensure his full recovery, in spite of Spock’s protests.

“El wanted to see you on our way to the gym. I’m going to show her a few moves,” Uhura said. The leanest flicker of a smile twitched for a moment across his face. Uhura grasped his hand lightly. “Mr Scott beamed down to M’bai with a supply of pure Letrinum crystals, which improved the phasic disturbance rapidly,” Uhura explained. “Kehoe and Fetia were greatly relieved, as you can imagine.”

“And Dartan?”

“The science department turned up some interesting results when they cross referenced his DNA against unsolved crimes in M’bai. Turns out his DNA is linked to several violent assaults, and more than one death.” Uhura lowered her voice. “Including a woman called Piria, more than ten years ago.”

“Hafran’s wife?”

Uhura nodded. “I went up to the mountain again. Told him he could go back, but he didn’t want to. He said he and Teht-Yen are used to one another now.” She sighed. “But at least now no one thinks he was responsible for his wife’s death. He seemed at peace with that.”

Spock nodded, very carefully.

Uhura gently kissed the side of his mouth. “I’ll come back and see you later,” she said.

#

After a workout session with El, where Uhura showed her most of the moves she knew, and Misha Jeb, the unarmed combat specialist from security showed them both a few new ones, Uhura said goodbye to El.

“Thank you. Thank you for everything,” the girl smiled and waved as she disappeared in the gold light of the transporter beam.

Uhura sighed, returned to her quarters to shower, and then hurried to sickbay.

“Commander Spock?” McCoy grumbled when she asked where Spock was, “I discharged him an hour ago. Glad to see the back of him.”

Uhura rushed to Spock’s quarters. No answer. Frustration simmered in her chest. Had he gone on duty already, without contacting her? Dejected, she returned to her quarters. He hadn’t been able to say he loved her back on the mountain. They hadn’t spoken much while he was in sickbay, what with him being in his healing trance most of the time, and McCoy hanging around. Had Spock changed his mind about them?

She opened the door to her quarters. Soft music was playing. The lights were low, and on the table at the side of the room there was a vase of flowers. She blinked several times, and there he was, standing uncertainly in the corner of her quarters.

“It is my understanding that we had a date scheduled,” he said, awkwardly. “In your quarters.”

She stared at him, hard. He shifted his weight slightly from side to side.

“Are you…nervous?” she asked.

“If I were nervous, that would imply I am unable to fully regulate my emotional state on this occasion, and that would be…” he paused, as if weighing his answer, before he finally said, “that would be _true_. Have I stepped beyond the parameters of our implied arrangement? ”

She felt her whole heart smile, a rush of happiness that verged on giddiness, but she didn’t care. “No, not at all,” she said. She walked over to the flowers, shooting him a coy glance on the way. “These are beautiful.”

“So are you, Nyota.” He walked slowly over towards her. “It is fascinating, how the spectre of loss throws things into sharp relief.”

“Is it?” she said, her eyes sparkling now. “What things?”

“The fragility of life. The importance of holding on to the people we value.” As he spoke, he brought his hands to her waist, curling his fingers around her back.

She raised her lips to him, but stopped just short.

“The people we value?” She could feel his body pressed hard to hers, feel the strength of his need for her.

“Value. Desire,” he said the words slowly.

“I can feel that,” she said. “But is that all?”

“I pledge myself to you.” Spock said.

“And I to you, Spock. But is that all?” a hint of impatience leaked into her voice. She needed to hear him say it.

He pulled her closer. “I have feelings of deep affection and respect for you.”

“Spock,” she said, “What does that mean?”

He considered for a moment. “It means, in human terms, that I love you.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but she could not, because his lips were on hers again, hungry and raw. She had waited a long time to hear those words.

“Are you feeling alright? Your eyes, your back?” she whispered.

“Doctor McCoy had me in sickbay quite long enough. He reported himself pleased with my progress,” Spock said. “That I am out of sickbay, and that you and I are finally alone, pleases _me_ very much.” As he spoke he guided her backwards towards her bed.

“You know what doesn’t please _me_?” she said, pulling at his shirt. “All these clothes.”

“Then I trust that we can find a solution to this dilemma?”

Uhura smiled, her heart singing as she looked up into his serious Vulcan eyes. “Yes, Spock,” she said. “I trust that we can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me during this fic. I hope you have enjoyed the journey!
> 
> My next project is based on Rogue One, and is called 'Hope.' Chapter one is on my page now.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos is a logical way to express appreciation of a writer's efforts : )
> 
> If anyone is interested in working with me as a beta reader on this story, get in touch via my tumblr blog: www.tumblr.com/blog/my-writing-life  
> or twitter.com/KateCol17


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